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THE LOST WITNESS 

OR 

THE MYSTERY OF LEAH PAGET 





“Good Heavens!” he cried, recoiling. 

Page 243. 


What a scene!” 


I--'' 

THE LIBRARY OF CHOICE FICtlON ^ 


THE LOST WITNESS 

OR 

THE MYSTERY OF LEAH PAGET 


3 


LAWRENCE L. LYNCH 

(of the secret service) 

Yy\ » [y O/V'^ © 

Author of “Shadowed by Three,” “Dangerous 
Ground,” “The Diamond Coterie,” 

“ Madeline Payne, ” etc. 


OFCO^/5^^ 

copyright % 

"UiiTv 

•^ASHINGTO^* 


CHICAGO : 

LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS 

1890 


O 


I 


( 


I 





( . 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1890, by Laird & Lee, in the 
Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 

(All rights reserved.) 



I 


•s* 









“Madam, would you commit another murder? Hortense Novalis 
is not yet avenged! Page 528. 



A LOST WITNESS 


CHAPTER I. 

A REPORTER'S “ GOOD WORK”. 

It was high noon, and past : the big, harrassed-faced Lo- 
cal Editor of that most reliable evening paper, which, for half a 
dozen reasons, eacli one better than the last, we will name the 

Evening Call”, sat in his sanctum, glancing at his watch, 
and evidently more at odds with the world than usual. 
And small wonder, for the devil” stood at his elbow crying 
for more copy” ; and more copy, of the right sort, that would 
add spice to the evening’s issue and send it forth with the eclat 
which was its due, was sadly wanting. 

At this tragic moment, when one of the Editor’s hands was 
clutched in his hair, and the boy at his elbow seemed in im- 
minent danger from the other, a door opened, and a small, ])ale- 
faced, sandy-haired young man entered and walked up to the 
Editor’s desk, upon which he deposited several slips of paper, 
by passing them over the boy’s head. 

^^God bless you. Cousin !” ejaculated the Editor, fervently, 
and pounced at once upon the first slip of paper. 

This is what he read : 


7 


8 


A LOST WITNESS. 


A MYSTERY IN UPPER TENDOM ! 

DISAPPEARANCE OP AN HEIRESS ! 

It is with sincere regret that we record the strange disappearance of one 
of the first of our society belles, Miss Leah Paget, the heiress and only 
daughter of Abner Paget, our highly esteemed citizen and wealthy im- 
porter. 

Miss Paget was last seen yesterday at early dusk, when she crossed 
the threshold of her splendid home, with two or three letters in her hand. 
It had been her habit to go often at this hour to the nearest letter-box, to 
post such letters as she wished to go by the early mails. 

Mr. aud Mrs. Paget were dining out and did not return until late ; 
hence, the absence of their daughter was not learned until this morning. 
The discovery brought with it instant alarm, for it was evident that her 
bed had not been occupied. Miss Paget had never been known to 
leave her father’s house, even for a brief time, without informing some 
member of the household of her intentions. Mr. Paget, in the midst of 
his grief and consternation, displayed marked presence of mind by dis- 
patching messengers at once to all of their friends and intimates, upon 
the possibility that the young lady had taken a sudden fancy to visit 
some one of them, and had been for some unknowm reason detained over 
night. Not until he had thoroughly convinced himself that Miss Paget 
was not to be found among their friends, did he call for help. 

Now, the authorities are straining every nerve. Chief of Police Con- 
nors himself having taken the matter in hand. There is no hint of her 
whereabouts— no clue to follow. Mrs. Paget is nearly crazed with grief ; 
she believes that some fearful calamity has befallen her daughter, and 
will not be comforted. It is to be hoped that a simple solution for this 
problem will be found, for the sake of the grief -stricken parents, who 
adored her, of the society of which she was a bright ornament, and for 
her own sake— young, rich, beautiful, and beloved. 

The Editor laid down the slip and faced the reporter. 
Cousin/^ he said, gravely, this is delicate ground. Are 
you sure — He stopped, and looked at the small demon in 
waiting. 

O, it is all right,’^ replied theyoung man. l\e been there 


A reporter’s GOOD WORK”. 


9 


with Chief Connors. I might have made the thing more sen- 
sational, but it didn’t seem best to me. We are the only paper 
that has, as yet, an inkling of it. And I shouldn’t wonder if 
there were plenty more ^material’ in the case before the end is 
reached.” 

‘^Highly esteemed citizen — wealthy importer,” he com- 
mented, sounds as if he is the only importer. I’ll fix that.” 

He slapped the paper upon the desk, made an erasure, and 
hastily introduced a word or two, while the writer of the on 
dit looked serenely on. Then he gave it to the waiting boy. 

Take it, Napoleon ; away with you.” And then as the lad 
vanished — What’s next?” he said, and took up the second 
slip. 

LA BELLE FABRICE. 

We have it from excellent authority, that Fabrice, the charming and 
long-looked-for Comedienne from over the water, is actually among us ; 
that she came quietly and incognito, accompanied only by her maid and 
Madame Congreve, who is a devoted friend and member of the Fabrice 
Company. The remaining members of the Company are hourly expected, 
but the date of the first appearance of La Belle Fabrice before an Amer- 
ican audience is not yet fixed. The dashing little Comedienne is in pos- 
itive retirement for the present, and absolutely unapproachable. 

Apropos, rumor says, that the little lady left behind her a throng of ad- 
mirers, and that one, a titled “ scion of nobility”, arrived in the steamer 
which brought the fair actress. 

The Editor turned from the perusal of this second slip, with 
a smile upon his face. 

Well, Cousin, you have improved the shining hour. I 
suppose this is a ^ reliable’ morsel of gossip ?” 

Perfectly so,” said the imperturbable young man. I 
met Manager Horton in Madison Square, before he had had 
his breakfast.” 

Quite by accident, of course ?” 


10 


A LOST WITNESS. 


quite. Only I waited something like half-an-liour to 
bring the accident about. I had a hint that the lady was in 
New York, and made up my mind to have it out of him.’’ 

Precisely — I see. And this ^scion of nobility’ — is he a 
fact or fiction ?’ ’ 

That was Horton’s suggestion ; but I think the ^ scion’ is 
genuine. Horton thought it was a good point to make, but 
he seemed a little doubtful of its effect upon the lady. He 
didn’t seem much concerned about the young man. His 
name, Horton says, is Sir Felix Wynton. To be on the safe side, 
I omitted it. 

Quite right.” The Editor took up the remaining slips. 

What have we here? More nuo:o:ets ?” 

Padding, all but one. Just run them over ; I want your 
judgment on that.” 

The Editor began looking over the slips and reading aloud 
the heading of each. 

^ Bellevue Hospital again ’?” 

“ No, not that.” 

^ More about the lOlh Street murder ’?” 

No, no !” 

‘ A possible sensation in high life ’?” 

Yes, that’s it.” 

The Editor turned in his chair until he faced the reporter, 
and began to read, slowly and aloud : 

A POSSIBLE SENSATION IN rilOH LIFE. 

If the rumor just set afloat, and spoken of, when it is known at all, 
with bathed breath, and in secret places, should prove true, it will deal a 
blow to society that will be felt to its very center. It concerns a lady 
of high social standing, and would, if but half were proven true, con- 


A reporter’s GOOD WORK”. 


11 


viuce our social leaders, iu more ways than one, “ That thiugs are sel- 
dom what they seem.” 

This is a case iu which tougues should be bridled, the evil report nipped 
iu the bud, or the broad, uuvaruished truth be boldly declared. If the 
rumor has no foundation, society should rise to the defense of a maligned 
lady. If report speaks the truth, which Heaven forbid, society should 
be protected from future pollution. This is a case in which there 
should be no middle course. Let the tongues that have set this baneful 
ball rolling, speak out. “ Say all, or be forever silent.’’ 

From this fragment of lite'rature, the Editor turned with a 
puzzled countenance. 

“ Of all the ambiguous, mysterious productions — ” he be- 
gan, but the little reporter interrupted him. 

Of course it’s ambiguous,” he declared. You needn’t 
print it if you don’t like. It may end in nothing, and people 
will call it a canard. In that case, we will have to invent an 
ingenuous explaiiuiion. But it may end otherwise — and the 
^CalV prides itself on being first in the field with marriages, 
murders, and mysteries — don’t it?” 

^‘Certainly. But this ^ rumor’ — what is it?” 

Cousin perched himself upon a corner of the Editor’s wide 
desk. 

^^It isn’t a rumor yet,” he said, quietly. The truth is, I 
picked it up accidentally, as you mightsay, several daysago. I’ve 
been watching it, and turning it over in my mind, ever since, 
and it’s my opinion that it will become a rumor very shortly — 
a genuine sensation, that will make ^ sassiety’ howl. I can’t ex- 
plain further — you can use it or not, as you like.” 

The Editor took up the paper and laid it down again. 

Is this sensation connected in any way with the disappear- 
ance of Miss Paget?’’ he asked. 

“ By no means.” 


12 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Did it occur to you that readers might construe it as mean- 
ing that young lady ?” 

No, it didn’t. And if they do — ” 

It will give us a chance to set them right through the me- 
dium of another sensational paragraph, eh ? Well, it’s your 
affair. Cousin; I’ll send in the copy.” 

As he put out his hand to touch the bell, a door leading to 
an outer office opened, and a boy came in with a card, which 
he placed upon the desk before tl>e Editor, who glanced at the 
name, hesitated, and then proffered it to Cousin. 

The reporter took it, looked at it hastily, slipped from his 
perch, and said, with a significant glance at the waiting boy ; 

Do you know who he is ?” 

Why, yes, as a society man, a club man. I think we even 
have a bowing acquaintance.” 

Bah ! I mean, do you know that he is the reputed Jian- 
0^6 of Miss Paget ?” 

Eh ! Are you sure ?” 

Cousin tossed the card down upon the desk, and said : 

‘‘ He was entering the house as Connors and I left it. 
He has come to suppress us. You will see him ?” 

Yes, of course.” 

Well, I don’t wish to. He knows me, and has followed 
me here.” 

George,” said the Editor, turning briskly toward the boy, 

go out through the hall and wait there two minutes, then 
show the gentleman in. You understand ?” 

The office boy nodded, and went out as bidden. 

‘^I think I’ll go the same way,” said the reporter. 

No, step in there,” pointing to a door on the opposite side 
of the room, and wait until he’s gone.” 


A EEPORTER’s GOOD WORK”. 


13 


The reporter vaoished through the door indicated, and in 
another moment the visitor was ushered in. 

The Editor, with the card between his fingers, turned in his 
revolving chair, and as the young man paused before him, he 
arose. 

Mr. Tulfourd ?” he said, with an inquiring accent. 

Max Tulfourd — yes. I think we have met before.” 

I think so too,” said the Editor, genially. Be seated, 
Mr. Tulfourd.” 

But Mr. Tulfourd, a tall, broad-shouldered type of the good- 
looking, cultured, and fortunate young American, preferred to 
name his errand standing. 

There was a touch of pallor in his fine face, and a look of 
anxiety in his clear blue eyes. 

“ I will not sit,” he responded, quietly. I believe you have 
upon your staff a reporter named Cousin ?” 

Yes,” responded the Editor, we have.” 

I met him coming from Mr. Paget’s house this morning, 
as I was entering. May I ask if he has been here since noon ?” 

Yes, sir, he has. Cousin left me not long ago.” 

Then I presume — I fear — that he has sujDplied you with a 
statement concerning — Miss Paget ?” 

Concerning the disappearance of Miss Paget — yes.” 

The brow of the young man clouded. 

Do you intend to publish that statement, or any other state- 
ment of the case ?” 

Why, yes, Mr. Talfourd, we shall print — have printed, I 
may say — a simple mention ; no details — nothing that could of- 
fend.” 

Young Talfourd interrupted him with an impatient gesture. 

“ Can that, in any way — at any cost — be stopped ?” 

<< Eh?” 


14 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Can it be suppressed ? — kept out of your paper by any ar- 
rangement you choose — ’’ 

“ My dear sir/’ remonstrated the Editor, rising, and putting 
the finger tips of his right hand against those of his left, 
‘‘ be reasonable. Suppose it were not too late — that it could 
be kept out of the ^Call ’, tomorrow it would be in every one 
of the other papers, and garbled maliciously. In Mr. Cousin’s 
paragraph there is nothing but the simple statement— the bare 
truth. Merely, that Miss Paget is missing, not to be found 
among her friends, and tl»at efforts are being made to explain 
the mystery, to find the young lady. Now, is there anything 
objectionable in that ?” 

The Editor’s tone was one of mild remonstrance, but Max 
Talfourd only bit the end of his long mustache, and glared 
moodily at the opposite wall. 

Miss Paget is missing, is she not ?” queried the Editor, his 
voice becoming that of a much-injured individual. 

Unfortunately, yes.” 

Has anything happened since Cousin left the house that 
throws new light upon the subject ?” 

Nothing.” 

Then, my dear sir — ” 

Talfourd made an impatient movement. 

I have reason,” he began, — that is, I think it quite pos- 
sible, that Miss Paget may return within the present twenty- 
four hours. And her explanation, while it will be perfectly 
satisfactory to her friends, will not interest nor concern the 
public. If you publish her absence, you must, of course, fol- 
low it up with her explanation — don’t you think that it 
may be taking unwarrantable liberty with a lady’s private 
affairs ?” 


A reporter’s GOOD WORK 


15 


The young man spoke slowly, but as he ceased, and rested 
his gaze upon the Editor, that personage saw clearly that his 
calm cost an effort. 

My dear sir,” rejoined the Editor, in a tone that was at 
once caressing and full of regi et, evidently, you do know 
something about this business — something that justifies your 
wish to have this matter dropped ; and if — ” 

His visitor’s hand went up in an imperative gesture, 
while his cheek flamed and his eye flashed. 

Stop!” he said, and then paused ; it was evident that he 
was agitated, and that he was weighing his next words. 

Understand me,” he said, after a moment’s silence, I know 
nothing concerning this mystery. But I know Miss Paget, 
and feel sure that she has done naught of which her friends 
would disapprove, and I am not willing to entertain the notion 
which unfortunately possesses her mother, that some harm has 
befallen her.’’ He stopped suddenly, and there was another 
moment of silence — then ; Is it an utter impossibility to with- 
draw that item?” he asked. 

If it were possible to oblige you, Mr. Talfourd, it should 
be withdrawn. If you had called half an hour earlier it might 
have been done. I will furnish you, in a few moments, with 
a proof of the paragraph, and you can see how very little it 
really says.” 

Talfourd shook his head, and made a movement toward the 
door. 

Or,” pursued the Editor, if there be any additional word 
in the way of a correction, or suggestion — ” 

Thank you,” said Talfourd, with the air of one repeating 
a meaningless formula, ^Hhere is no more to be said. I will 
not trespass longer upon your time.” 


16 


A LOST WITNESS. 


He walked to the door, and the Editor moved a pace after 
him, wearing a look of regretful sympathy. 

At the door, Talfourd turned suddenly, and said, with a sus- 
picion of sarcasm in his voice ; 

It is not too late, perhaps, to ask that you make no men- 
tion of this call — this fool’s errand — of mine ?” 

Certainly not ; by no means,’’ said the Editor. 

Talfourd released his hold of the door-knob and took a step 
back toward the Editor. There was a new ring of resolve 
in the tone in which he said : 

‘‘You had better understand me perfectly. Mr. Paget did 
not know that I intended to come here when I left his house. 
I saw that fellow, Cousin, coming away from there, and guessed 
that he would not miss his opportunity. I came to you 
solely upon my own responsibility, but with ample justi- 
fication. Miss Paget was — is — my intended wife,” He now 
looked keenly at the Editor, all signs of embarrassment having 
disappeared. 

“ I comprehend, sir,” said the Editor, gravely. “ 1 shall 
respect your confidence.” 

Talfourd bowed, and went out ; in a moment Cousin ap- 
peared at the opposite door. 

“ Well ?” said the Editor, seeing that the other was not in- 
clined to speak. “ I suppose you heard our conversation ? 
What do you think now ?” 

Cousin consulted his watch. 

“ I have something to do at this hour,” he said. And then, 
as if the question was of small importance — “ I think this is 
going to prove an interesting case.” 

“ Oh,” said the Editor, with the nearest approach to sarcasm, 
“ shall I make a note of your opinion ?’^ 


AT THE CENTRAL OFFICE. 


17 


Cousin put away his watch, and said, ignoring both ques- 
tion and sarcasm. 

Pm glad you didn’t let Talfourd talk you over.” 

The Editor began to toy with a paper weight. 

“ I shouldn’t wonder if the whole thing fumed out a canard,” 
he said, looking furtively at Cousin. 

I shouldn’t wonder if it turned out a tragedy,” said Cou- 
siji, serenely. Have you any instructions ? if not. I’m off.” 

No,” said the Editor, taking up his pen. But when Cou- 
sin was at the door, he asked, over his shoulder : Are you go- 
ing out in the capacity of reporter, or as a detective ?” 

Both,” replied Cousin, and went his way 


CHAPTER II. 

AT THE CENTRAL OFFICE. 

That we may clearly comprehend the meaning of much that 
is to come, let us turn backward, and begin with the day that 
is so eventful for Percy A. Cousin, so fraught with sorrow for 
others. 

At ten o’clock A.M., Percy A. Cousin, familiarly known 
among his intimates as Polly” Cousin, is lounging in Mad- 
ison Square, which, at that hour, is comparatively deserted. It 
is spring, and the place is clothed in its greenest and most beau- 
tiful garments, and flooded with brilliant sunshine. But Percy 


18 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Cousin seems not at all impressed by the beauties about him. 
He stands listlessly iu a well-selected place of observation, and 
seems intent upon nothing whatever. 

Cousin is slender, and below the average height ; his small 
stature is made to seem still less, because of bis stooping shoul- 
ders and a fixed habit of carrying his head with a sidewise 
droop. He has a pale face, and a few freckles — the last of a 
bountiful boyhood crop — which give emphasis to his pallor. 
His hair, like his face, is pale and thin, and always cropped 
close to his head. His nose is long and sharply pointed. His 
mouth is large, and when closed, has the appearance of a straight 
thin line. As redeeming feature in a not over-prepossessing 
face, the upper lip is shadowed by a drooping mustache, also 
pale of color, but luxuriant in growth, and the whole is lighted 
by a pair of large gray eyes, that can invite and inspire confi- 
dence, look keen, clever, cunning, or frank, as suits the mood 
or pleasure of their owner. 

Five years ago, on a spring morning much like this on which 
he is introduced to the reader, Percy A. Cousin arrived in New 
York, fresh from a country home, endowed with as much learn- 
ing as could be gained at the village High School, a plentiful 
stock of faith and hope, and with one or two very definite plans 
for future usefulness. He was then twenty-one years old, and 
his worldly wealth amounted to exactly fourteen dollars and 
twenty-five cents. 

As a first step toward future glory, he visited the Metropol- 
itan Detective Agency, and recommended himself, with more el- 
oquence than humility, as a promising amateur detective. But 
the Agency was not in want of reinforcement. After walking 
past Headquarters” four times, our hero then presented him- 
self to the Chief of Police. But that august personage, with 


AT THE CENTRAL OFFICE. 


19 


the blindness often noticeable in men of developed genius, failed 
to recognize genius in the embryo. And so, as a last resort. 
Cousin began the rounds of the Newspaper offices. He en- 
countered failure everywhere, until he entered the office of the 
“ Call Here, too, failure had almost marked him for a vic- 
tim, but at the critical moment, misfortune, which so often 
goads people to despair, piqued him into uttering — under the 
sting of some editorial flippancy — his first impertinence. It 
chanced to be a piquant and original impertinence, and it drew 
from his auditors a roar of laughter. 

There had been an accident in an adjoining street, and a 
reporter had been dispatched to be an eye-witness’^ and write 
it up. By the way of furnishing the office with another good 
laugh, Cousin was now sent to evolve his version of the calam- 
ity. Then the laugh turned ; the version of our amateur, with a 
few amendments — was printed, instead of the cut-and-dried re- 
port of the experienced hack. And Cousin was retained, at 
scant wages, by the ^^Call 

That was the beginning of his career, and, today he stood 
the acknowledged best ‘^specialist” on the “ staff— the 

man who, more than any other, did as he pleased, wrote what 
he would, and was seldom questioned or criticised. 

Madison Square at ten o’clock in the morning is not wa- 
kened into vivacity and it looked like an unpromising place for 
a reporter. But Cousin continued to lounge and look listless, 
and seemed very well satisfied with the aspect of the locality. 

At fifteen minutes past ten, by his own infallible watch, he 
altered his position, and turned his face toward the Fifth Av- 
enue hotel. Almost instantly he started forward, muttering 
under his breath : There he is!” 


20 


A LOST WITNESS. 


The person who had just emerged from the hotel was a big 
man, with a smooth-shaven, genial face, his ample expanse of 
shoulders and chest being covered with a striking pattern of 
Scotch tweed, and further emphasized by a huge diamond, just 
below his chin, and a massive watch-guard. 

As this personage paced slowly forward, Cousin advanced 
briskly, and when they met, the latter put out his hand. 

How d’ye do. Colonel ?” 

The big man stopped, and looked down atr the little one. 

Do ? — why, gad ! it’s you, eh ? Cousin, ray boy !” He 
grasped the proffered hand and shook it warmly. It don’t 
take you long to smell us out !” 

Not when your arrival is announced in the evening papers. 
Colonel.” 

The Colonel laughed lightly. 

Well, well, it’s useless to fence with you. Whose scalp 
is it now, eh ?” 

Yours.” 

^^Oh, mine? Well, shall we walk on? I was just begin- 
ning my constitutional.” 

They paced on slowly, side by side. Cousin did not seem 
eager to begin the conversation, and there was a sly smile hid- 
den behind his yellow mustache. It was not his first inter- 
view with Colonel Horton, who styled himself, and liked to 
be styled, Impressario ; and who was, in truth, a most success- 
ful manager of sundry operatic and dramatic stars” and con- 
stellations.” 

The two men understood each other, and had laid aside all 
the plausibilities which were employed upon occasion by the 
reporter, and all the glittering effects that were dear to the 
heart, and so much stock in trade, of the manager. 


AT THE CENTRAL OFFICE. 


21 


I hear that La Belle Fabrice has arrived/^ began Cousin, 
when they had walked a few paces. 

Yes. You have found her out, then It was evident 
that Colonel Horton was not ill-pleased. 

Yes ; and I want to see her.” 

If you do see her you’ll be a clever fellow.” 

“ Why ?” 

She vows she won’t be interviewed. And she really means 
it. If you can see her, can get her to talk — ” 

Where is she ?” broke in Cousin. 

The Colonel eyed him askance. 

Look here. Cousin,” he said, if you can manage any kind 
of an interview and then make something spicy out of it, it will 
be a good thing, and I’ll see you through. But Fabrice is a 
Tartar, I’ll admit that.” 

I see.” 

Confound you ! no, you don’t. I don’t mean that she’s 
vixenish, like — well, like a good many that we know. She 
isn’t indisposed three days out of a week. She is the health- 
iest little sinner I ever saw, and prides herself on it. She don’t 
affect the airs of a grand dame ; she hates all that sort of thing. 
She isn’t cranky. She is the best-natured girl in the world. 
But she likes her ease, and her liberty, and she will have them. 
She has vowed that she won’t be bothered by reporters, and 1 
must say that she’s more likely to have her own way than any 
woman that I know.” 

Let’s talk over the prospects,” said Cousin. And having 
secured for themselves comfortable lounging-places, they lighted 
cigars and discussed their plans. 

To get for himself and his Star, a newspaper announcement 
as racy as reportorial pen could produce, was the wish of Man- 
ager Horton, and he knew that Cousin was his man. 


22 


A LOST WITNESS. 


To give the ^^Call the first word concerning the latest tlie- 
atrical sensation and leave little to be said by rival journals, 
was the wish of Cousin. So he questioned craftily, listened 
closely, made numerous brief notes, and finally arose from his 
interview, feeling sure he had squeezed his orange dry. 

^^And you are really going to try for an interview with Fa- 
brice?’^ said the Colonel, when Cousin had written down the 
address, and turned toward him in an attitude of leave-taking. 

I’m going tohave an interview wdth her,” corrected Cousin, 
with one of his quiet smiles. 

Oh !” and the Colonel beamed upon him admiringly. 

By the way, have you a good picture of her ?” 

Picture of Fabrice ? Why, bless you, boy, the shops are 
full of them.” 

Yes, I know; character pictures and that sort — bare arms, 
flowing wig, etc. I’ve half a dozen in my pocket now. What 
I mean is a simple vignette, or in walking costume.” 

Oh, every-day business ? Yes, I’ve got one.” 

The Colonel took out a huge pocket-album and drew from 
it, after a moment’s search, a picture, which he put into the re- 
porter’s hand. 

There you are.” 

Cousin looked at it critically. It showed him a piquant, 
pretty face, with rings of soft hair falling low over the forehead. 
The face was in profile, and all that was visible below was a 
simple band or collar, and the hint of a graceful shoulder. 

I’ll borrow this, if you’ve no objections,” said Cousin, 
pocketing the picture as he spoke. 

^^Keep it,” said the Colonel, airily, keep it ; I’m always 
supplied.” 

When they had separated. Cousin crossed over to Broadway, 


AT THE CENTJRAL OFFICE. 


23 


passed in front of the palatial New York Club House, and 
considered his next move. 

Tile Doane,’^ he was saying to himself; that’s an apart- 
ment house near the Parker, and Daly’s.” 

Then he seemed to have caught at the right idea. He turned 
briskly, and hailed a passing cab. 

To the Central Office of the Police,” he said, as he seated 
himself within. 

Captain Connors and Cousin had been friends for four years, 
which is to say, they had been friends three years before Cap- 
tain Connors became Chief of Police. 

They had first become acquainted as antagonists, at least 
in opinion, when the then Captain Connors came hastily one 
morning to inspect the scene of a murder in low life — a com- 
mon tenement-house killing affair. 

Notwithstanding his haste, he found a small, and, as he 
thought, insignificant, young reporter already on the premises, 
and in possession of many of the facts. 

After much questioning. Captain Connors expressed his 
theory in the hearing of all present. A moment later, a hand 
touched his arm, and he turned to see the insignificant” at 
his side. 

Captain,” this personage whispered, “ if you will give me 
a word in private, I can save you from a blunder.” 

A blunder ! There was something in the fellow’s eyes, after 
a moment’s scanning, that impressed the Captain, and he moved 
aside with the young man and heard him in non-committal si- 
lence. As a result, he was saved from committing a blunder, — 
one that would have covered him with confusion, perhaps dis- 
grace. Since that day a warm friendship had grown up be- 
tween the Captain and the young reporter. And Cousin, who 


24 


A LOST WITNESS. 


had a remarkable faculty of reasoning from effect to cause, was 
often called upon for his opinion in difficult and important 
cases. Many times his advice had been found of great value, 
and once or twice even served to secure criminals who would 
Iiave certainly escaped but for his suggestions. In return. 
Captain Connors never failed to inform Cousin of any choice 
items that came to his knowledge. 

If Connors had been promoted to his present position two 
years earlier, before Cousin had achieved such success in his 
present vocation, there would have been one reporter less on the 
pay-i’oll of the Call and a valuable addition to the staff 
of city detectives. But when the opportunity came, as it did. 
Cousin shook his head. 

No,’^ he said, to be a detective was once my ambition. 
Journalism was second choice. But Fve got my hand in 
now — got my apprentice work done, and I like it well enough, 
too. It wouldn’t be good sense to give up the work I’m succeed- 
ing in, to try a new line, when so much depends upon chance. — 
It’s mighty good of you, Connors, to offer me this, but I think 
I’ll stay where I am. Of course, I’ll be at your disposal, as I am 
now, when you want me, or can’t do better. May be, I won’t do 
worse detective work, upon occasion, for remaining journalist.” 

It was a long speech for Cousin to make, and Connors knew 
that his decision was final. He had been six weeks in office 
when he made this proposal to Cousin, and more than once since 
he had taken him at his word and called upon him for his opin- 
ion or his help. Their friendship had not lessened, and the 
Chief was often heard to say, that there was only one detective 
in New York who could do a stroke of business better than 
Polly Cousin. 

When Cousin arrived at the Central Office and was about to 


AT THE CENTRAL OFFICE. 


25 


enter, he met a man coming out — a tall, spare man, well dress- 
ed, and carrying himself very erect. His bearing was that of 
natural hauteur, with which the look of anxiety upon his pale, 
elderly, aristocratic face was not in keeping. 

A Knickerbocker,” muttered Cousin, as he hastened with- 
in ; one of the last of them.” 

Hello, Cousin,” called Chief Connors, as the reporter ap- 
peared in the doorway, youh’e just in time. Come in, and 
shut the door.” 

Cousin obeyed, noting, as he did so, that Connors was stand- 
ing at his desk, hastily gathering up some scattered papers, as 
if preparing to go out. The Chief continued his occupation, 
while he said : 

If I were a ‘ medium’, I should say that I had brought you 
here by — what is it?” 

Rapport f’ suggested Cousin. 

“ Well, call it that. By the way,” turning toward him 
with the collected papers in his hands, what are you about ? 
anything urgent ?” 

Not very.” 

Anything to prevent you giving me, say, an hour of your 
time ?” 

That depends upon circumstances. I came here to get one 
of your business cards.” 

Eh ! My card ? What for ?” 

Well, I want to write my name on the back of it.” 

Connors understood. He turned, and tossed the papers on 
the desk. 

^^Your own name this time?” he asked. 

“ Yes. I want to call upon a young woman who has vowed 
that she will not let a reporter into her presence — won’t be in- 
terviewed.” 


26 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Chief Connors laughed again, and locked his desk. 

Youh’e a clever one,’^ he said, admiringly. 1 never heard 
of you in ladies’ society. I’d like to know how you got such 
an insight into their peculiarities. How did you know that 
you can send a card to almost any woman in New York, and 
if it is sufficiently mysterious, be sure that she will see you ? 
But you can postpone your call ?” 

“ If necessary.” 

I consider it necessary. Didn’t you meet some one going 
away from here just now — tall, elderly, high-toned?” 

Yes.” 

Know him ?” 

Very familiar face, but — ” 

Old Paget ; Abner, the millionaire.” 

Oh ! surely. I thought I knew him by sight. But he 
looked so different.” 

Chief Connors glanced at his watch and took up his hat. 

He’s badly cut up,’’ he said ; ‘‘ his daughter is missing.” 

Miss Leah Paget ?” 

Yes. You may be sure there’s something in it, when that 
proud old aristocrat calls for the help of the police. Jocelyn is 
away, and Browne, too. There is no one else I want to put on 
the case. I was just about to send you a message, asking you 
to meet me at Paget’s house, to save time. This won’t be one 
of the ordinary girl’s capers, — elopement, etc. I want you to 
go over the ground with me.” 

One of his subordinates opened the door that led to the gen- 
eral office. 

Cab’s here,” he said, as he nodded to Cousin. 

You’ll go?” asked the Chief. 

Yes,” said Cousin, and the two went out together. 


THE LOST HEIRESS 


27 


CHAPTER III. 

THE LOST HEIRESS. 

The splendid home of Abner Paget, far up Fifth Avenue, 
and in view of Central Park, was under a cloud that fair 
spring morning when Chief Connors and Polly Cousin rattled 
up the pavement, and hastened across the trim lawn. In the 
morning-room sat Mr. Paget and his wife. But each face was 
turned aside, and both pairs of eyes looked out upon the street 
— tliose of the father gloomy and stern ; those of the mother 
wistful, eager, and dimmed with tears. 

From the window they saw the arrival of the cab, and Mrs. 
Paget hastily brushed her handkerchief across her face. 

^ I think you had better not remain here, Miranda,” he 
said, gently. You shall be sent for if it seems best.” 

Is it the Chief of Police ?” she asked, anxiously. 

Yes.” 

“ And the other ?” 

I do not know ; I did not expect any one else.” 

Mrs. Paget arose. She was a tall, fair woman, with a gen- 
tle manner and a low voice. She was agitated as she addressed 
her husband, but one could guess, even then, that she could 
be firm as well as gentle. 

I will go,” she said, while you are telling your story. 
It will be as well. But if the Chief of Police begins to inter- 
rogate, I wish to be present. If there are to be questions about 
my daughter, I must be here when they are answered.” 


28 


A LOST WITNESS. 


And to answer them/^ added Mr. Paget, as he arose and 
walked beside her to the door. “You shall come in at the 
right time. I only want to save you pain.” 

He opened the door and she went out silently. At the same 
moment Connors, standing at the main entrance, with his hand 
upon the bell, was saying to his companion ; 

“ Now, remember, when I give the sign, you are to take up 
the business, and do the cross-questioning.” 

“ All right,” said Cousin — and they were in the presence of 
Mr. Paget. 

Chief of Police Connors was a shrewd, practical man, one 
needing neither advice nor instruction wlien the routine of of- 
ficial work, the management of men, the detail of police methods 
and police duty was concerned — here he was thoroughly at 
home. He could talk, and talk straight to the point. But one 
of the things the Chief of Police knew — and so wise and shrewd 
was he that it was known to few others — was, that he was not 
a “ born detective”. 

In stepping out of his office into this Fifth Avenue abode 
of luxury, to investigate the mysterious disappearance of a 
beautiful young society belle, he felt that he was going into 
an atmosphere where he was not at home. But no uneasiness, 
if he felt such, was manifest in his manner, and he began with 
his usual promptness. 

“ So little was said at my office, Mr. Paget, that I did not 
learn your full intentions. Do you mean to make a thorough 
search for your daughter ?” 

“ Certainly,” said Mr. Paget, with a touch of haughti- 
ness. 

“ I acted upon that supposition, and brought a friend with 
me, thinking that I might need his professional aid.” He 


raE LOST HEIRESS. 


29 


turned to Cousin, who stood modestly in the background. 
“ Let me introduce Mr. Cousin, sir.” 

Mr. Cousin, his modesty being of no further use, cast it be- 
hind him, and came confidently forward, bowing gravely. 

Mr. Paget returned the bow, but continued to address the 
Chief of Police. 

Is Mr. Cousin a detective, then ?” He spoke the word 

detective” as if he did not like the sound of it. 

The Chief drew a step nearer and smiled reassuringly. 

I was not sure,” he said, that you would care to have one 
of the city detectives, for — for various reasons. Mr. Cousin 
has frequently given me his help in difficult cases ; he is not a 
professional detective, but he is the very man you want, or 
that I want, here.” 

If my services are unwelcome to Mr. Paget — ” began 
Cousin, with unruffled composure ; but Mr. Paget checked him 
with a quick gesture. 

You will both excuse me,” he said, considering my po- 
sition. It shocks me to think of setting the police to hunt for 
my daughter.” 

Quite naturally,” said the Chief, briskly. 

And you have acted properly,” went on Mr. Paget. Be 
seated, gentlemen.” He set the example by seating himself. 
“ Now, tell me how we are to begin.” 

The Chief of Police sat down with very much the air of a 
physician about to begin an exhaustive examination of an in- 
teresting case. 

At what time did you discover that your daughter was miss- 
ing ?” 

Mr. Paget shivered slightly, and his brow darkened. What 
ugly words were these being uttered in the sanctity of his splen- 


30 


A LOST WITNESS. 


did morning-room ! — detectives”, ‘^missing”, ^Hhe police”, 
— and all in connection with bright, dainty, lovely Leah Paget. 

There was a moment of silence before he answered the ques- 
tion. 

It was as early as eight o’clock this morning.” 

And when did you last see her ?” 

I saw her last at luncheon. My wife looked in upon her 
just before we left the house, at about six o’clock.” 

When you saw her — Miss Paget, I mean — was she as well 
as usual, and in her usual spirits ?” 

I saw nothing to make me think otherwise.” 

At this point, the Chief and Cousin exchanged glances. Mr. 
Paget was answering the Chief’s questions in the briefest man- 
ner, as if they were impertinences, which he disdained to honor 
with his resentment. 

Who was the last person with whom your daughter spoke 
before she left the house ?” 

“ As nearly as I can ascertain, it was Mrs. Paget.” 

The Chief leaned back in his chair as if his interview with 
Mr. Paget was at an end. He was a man of simple speech, 
and unassuming manners. The haughtiness of his host piqued 
him ; and he could be high-handed, too, when he chose. 

I would like to see Mrs. Paget,” he said, shortly. 

Mr. Paget arose, looked at the Chief for a moment, seemed 
about to speak, then moved toward the door. 

I will ask her to see you.’’ 

When Mrs. Paget appeared, and the two men had been 
named to her, the Chief said : 

Mrs. Paget, Mr. Cousin is here to help me ; in fact, I 
shall depend upon him if we find difficulties. Will you talk 
with him, please ?” 


THE LOST HEIRESS. 


31 


The lady bowed assent, and seated herself near Cousin, who, 
having risen upon her entrance, now resumed his chair. 

Then the Chief, not glancing again at the host, sat down 
also ; and Mr. Paget, after a momentary survey of the others, 
seated himself in the background. 

Mrs. Paget,^^ said Cousin, in his quietest manner, “ will 
you please tell us, in your own way, all that you can of this af- 
fair T 

As he spoke, he put his hand into the pocket of his coat 
and drew out a small note-book. 

Mrs. Paget began her recital promptly. Her face showed 
evident traces of agitation, but her voice was quiet and her 
manner composed. 

“ This morning,” she said, I went to my daughter’s door 
at eight o’clock. It is my habit to rise at half-past seven, and 
my daughter, also, is an early riser when she has not been out 
late. No one answered my knock, and I tried the door. It 
was not locked, and I went in. The room which I entered was 
used as dressing-room and boudoir ; I crossed it and went into 
the sleeping-room. In one glance I saw that her bed had not 
been occupied. Everything remained as I had seen it the day 
before. Going back to her dressing-room, puzzled, but not 
yet roused to alarm, I saw that her writing-desk stood open, 
with letters scattered about, and her chair before it, just as I 
had seen them last evening, when I went in at six o’clock to 
speak to her before we set out. She then had been writing and 
had just risen from her desk as I entered.” 

Here Mrs. Paget paused, and cast an appealing look at her 
questioner. 

Can you recall what was said by your daughter and your- 
self ?” asked Cousin, in a subdued tone. 


32 


A LOST WITNESS. 


It was very little. A few common-places about our din- 
ner-party on my side, a little light badinage on hers. We were 
going to dine with a very estimable family, whom we value 
for old acquaintance’ sake. But my daughter seldom accepts 
their invitations, for — for reasons of delicacy.” 

Allow me,” broke in the voice of Mr. Paget. Since you 
have gone so far, it would be but justice to Leah to add that she 
had declined the addresses of their son.” 

He spoke to his wife without a glance at the others. 

Ah !” said the Chief, it is well to mention all these small 
details. It saves finding them out at considerable expense, 
sometimes, of time and labor.” 

While he was saying this. Cousin was quietly jotting a few 
words in his modest note-book. When the Chief had ceased 
speaking, he said : 

“ Please go on. Madam.” 

I stood at her desk, as we talked,” resumed Mrs. Paget, 
and I glanced down at the letters. There were three, sealed, 
and ready for the post. I read the address upon the first ; it 
was to a young girl friend at Old Point Comfort. I said, 
‘ What have you been telling Amy ?’ And my daughter re- 
plied, ‘ I have told her that I must decline her invitation for 
this month at least, because I wish to attend the Essex Hunt, 
and, I am promised for the F4te of Nations next week. I have 
also written to Gertie Carter, to assure her that I cannot assist 
the Amateurs with their new play.’ After a word or two more, 
I left her, as she was putting on her hat before the mirror. She 
was going to take a short walk, she said, and post her letters.” 

And you did not see her again ?” 

^^No.” The mother’s lip trembled, and she turned away her 
face. 


THE LOST HEFEKSS. 


33 


Who saw her after that?’' Cousin asked this after an in- 
terval in which lie seemed to have been meditating. 

Only Harkins, the footman. She passed him in the hall ; 
he opened the door and closed it after her. He says that she 
was smiling as she came down the stairs. She only said, 
^Thaidv you, Harkins', as she went out." 

And you are convinced that she is not with any of her 
friends ?" 

Oh, yes." 

Have you anything in the shape of a clue or suspicion ?" 

Nothing. My daughter was in excellent health and bright 
spirits. Her nature is a frank one. I do not think she had 
a secret from me, or that she ever had a serious trouble of any 
sort. The cause of her disappearance is a complete mystery. 
But I am sure that Leah Paget never left her home last night 
with the deliberate intention of forsaking us. She is not ab- 
sent now of her own will. Something — some horrible thing — 
has happened to her.". 

Her voice broke, she pressed her handkerchief to her face, 
arose quickly, and walked to the window. 

Cousin opened his note-book and turned toward Mr. Paget. 

I must trouble you to answer a few questions," he said, 
brusquely. 

Mr. Paget nodded stiffly, but kept his eyes on his wdfe. 

Please give me the name of the people with whom you 
dined last night." 

We dined with Mr. E. G. Quinlan and his family." 

Their address, please ?" said Cousin, without looking up. 

Their residence is on Madison Avenue, near the Church 
of the Transfiguration." 

‘^Little Church Around (he Corner," interrupted the Chief. 

2 


34 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Yes/^ from Cousin. Now, if you please — names and ad- 
dresses of the persons to whom those letters — the three seen by 
Mrs. Paget — wei’e sent.’^ 

It was Mrs. Paget who answered this question, as she 
turned and came baek from the window. 

One was to Miss Amy Lathrop, Old Point Comfoi’t. An- 
other was to Miss Gertrude Carter, Gram mercy Park.’^ 

And the third T’ asked Cousin, when the others were 
written. 

“ I did not see the name upon the third envelope, nor did 
my daughter allude to it.^^ 

‘‘ Thank you.’^ Cousin put away his note-book and 
glanced at the Chief. ‘^That is all as far as lam concerned.’^ 

The Chief arose, and Cousin followed his example. 

You will close Miss Pagefs rooms, sir.^^ Tlie Chief said 
this to Mr. Paget, with the air of a man who knows that the 
time has come when he can fully take command. “ Be espe- 
cially careful that no one disturbs the desk. AYe will set the 
wheels in motion without loss of time, and we will not ask 
to see these rooms until the case assumes a graver form. I 
must ask you, how ever, to send to my office any or all of 
your servants, as I m:iy call for them. It will be much bet- 
ter for our chances of success if we are not seen comimr here 
for interviews. Also, I wouhl like to be assured that yourself 
and Mrs. Paget will hold yourselves in readiness to come at a 
call, together or singly, as you may be instructed. AVe will 
keep you informed of all we do, and I hope to have some 
news for you soon.’’ 

As the Chief and his assistant were entering their cab, an- 
other vehicle dashed up to the door. It was a handsome 
coupe, and a young man s[>rang out almost before the wheels 



“ Something — some horrible thing — has happened to her.” 

rage 33. 


35 





36 


A LOST WITNESS. 


had ceased to revolve. As his feet touched tlie ground, his 
eyes met tliose of Polly Cousin, who was in the act of stepping 
into the cab. 

Who is that?’' asked the Chief, as thecal) rolled away. 

Max Talfourd, a swell club man. I’d give something to 
hear what will be said inside now. It is rumored that he is 
engaged to Miss Paget.” 

Well !” exclaimed the Chief, you reporters beat the world 
for finding out things. You beat the police !” 

If we didn’t,” retorted Cousin, with a grin, we’d have to 
find a new occupation, that required less brains.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

A KNICKERBOCKER FAMILY. 

When the door of the morning-room had closed behind the 
Chief of Police and Polly Cousin, Mr. Paget turned upon his 
heel and began to pace stifily up and down, while his wife 
turned slowly to the window and gazed sadly after the two re- 
ceding figures. 

Mr. Talfourd is coming.” 

A sound, something between a grunt and a sniff, came from 
the direction of Mr. Paget, and he began to walk again. 

I don’t want to see him.^’ 


A KXICKERBOCKER FAMILY. 


37 


1 cfo.’’ As she spoke, tlie servant entered, and presented 
a card. 

Ask him to come to me here, Harkins.’’ 

^‘Harkins,” said Mr. Paget, bring the letters and the 
morning papers to me in the library,” and Mr. Paget passed 
from the room. 

In another moment Max Tjdfonrd stood bowini>: before her, 
witli a look of surprise, which he conld not conceal, in his 
frank, handsome eyes. 

Mrs. Paget rose, and put out her hand to him. Max — ” 

she began, and then stopped, with her eyes fixed upon his face. 

Her greeting increased his surprise, and roused his appre- 
hension. He felt her hand trembling in his. He was embar- 
rassed, and said the first words that came to him. 

have just received yonr note, Mrs. Paget.” And then, 
after another glance at her face, What is it? Has anything 
happened ?” 

She sank back into her seat, and motioned him to another 
near her. 

Leah — ” she began, and once more she was unable to pro- 
ceed . 

Leah ? Is Leah ill ?” 

He sat down in the place indicated, and waited eagerly for 
her answer. 

Mrs. Paget looked at him mournfully for a moment, and 
then said, as if she must explain her own position first : 

My daughter and myself have always been confidantes, 
Mr. Talfourd. I have been aware of your mutual affection since 
• — since the first.” 

She has told me as much,” the young man answered, in a 
hushed tone, as if the theme were a sacred one» 


38 


A LOST WITNESS. 


“ Blit for that knowledge I should not liave ventured lo 
send for yon in iny present trouble. Tell me, do yon know 
where Leah is V’ 

Wiiere Leah is 

We have lost her. She has gone from the house — no one 
knows where.’^ 

Leah gone? Mi’S. Paget, f)r God’s sake, explain ! What 
can voLi mean ?” 

He was on his feet, pallid and startled. 

Poor hoy,” she said, wi(h motherly pity. Sit down, and 
I will tell yon all that w^e know.” 

It was little enough., and unsatisfactory enough, when .all 
was told. And when she ceased speaking, he sat silent f)r a 
few minutes — then : 

And was it -the Chief of Police and his assistant that I 
met at yonr door as I came ?” he asked. 

IT'S.” 

He started to his feet again. 

I must see Captain Connors,” he said. Mr. Paget was 
very wise in appealing at once to the police. Mrs. Paget, I 
must help in this search f)r Leah. You won’t forbid it?” 

Not if your heart is with us.” 

My heart is with Leah Paget, and my hand will be against 
whomsoever has done her a wrong or an injury. Mr. Paget has 
not been well disposed toward me, but now he must know the 
truth, from one of us.” 

It shall be from me,” she gently interposed ; and then added, 
as he was about to thank her, ^^and let me say now, so that 
we need not speak of it again, (hat I have not shared in his op- 
position to your suit. It is only the prejudice of one man for 
another. I looked upon you as Leah’s equal, and told my hus- 


A KNICKERBOCKER FAMILY. 


39 


band so. But your father and Mr. Paget have not been friends 
for years.’^ 

I knov/; some old business trouble. I have meant to ask 
my father to explain it to me.’’ 

And Mr. Paget hoped for an engagement between Leah and 
the son of his oldest friend.” 

Talfourd’s eyes sent out a flash of something like resent- 
ment. 

‘‘Yes; Frederick Quinlan.” 

“ Oh, so you know — ’’ 

“ I know. I think every one knows that Quinlan has been 
— I might say is — a suitor for Miss Paget’s hand. That is one 
reason why I iiave wished to make our engagement public, 
to stop Quinlan’s follies.” He checked himself, and put out his 
hand with a look of almost boyish appeal. “ At least, Mrs. 
Paget, I have your friendship, your toleration ? You willac-' 
C(‘pt my services as if — as — if I were indeed your son?” 

Up to this moment the brave mother htul ke[)t back her tears, 
and suppressed all outward signs of emotion ; but this appeal, 
this sympathy, touched her keenly. She put out her hand to- 
ward him, and burst into a flood of tears. 

AVhen Mr. Paget entered his library, — a room which he had 
long looked upon as his own private domain, and which was 
seldom visited by Leah or Mrs. Paget, — it was not to occupy 
himself with either letters or newspapers, except to glance 
at the handwriting upon each envelope, to assure himself that 
nothing was there that might in any way throw light upon the 
mystery of his daughter’s disappearance. Once satisfied on this 
point, the letters were thrust aside; at the newspapers he did 
not so much as glance. 


40 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Abner Paget was a proud old raan, carrying his head with 
soldierly erectness in spite of Ids sixty-seven summers and win- 
ters. He was full twenty years older tlian his wife; but he 
still had the same grave, stern face, crisp voice, and keen eye 
that had seemed to her the embodiment of force and dignity 
when he had wooed her many years ago. 

He sat very erect beside the long library table, and scowled 
up at the glittering chandelier. It was Max Talfourd, this 
same impertinent young man, now Ute-a-tete with his wife, who 
had changed the even current of his life. And the fact that 
his daughter, his beautiful only child, had disappeared, and that 
he had been brought to the necessity of calling for aid from the 
vulgar police, was mixing itself with a queer jumble of hostile 
thoughts against the house of Talfourd, when the door opened 
and his wife entered. 

Mr. Paget started slightly, and hastily took up one of the 
unopened letters. 

^^Well, Miranda?” said he, affecting to be busy. 

She came forward, and stood beside the table, just in front 
of him, and very near. 

I would like your attention for a moment, Abner.” 

He put aside the letters, and said, again, Well ?” 

Sometime since, more than a month ago, 1 showed you a 
letter, written by Mr. Max Talfourd, asking you to sanction his 
engagement with Leah.” 

After he had obtained the sanction of the young lady. 
Yes, I clearly recall his extraordinary proceedings” 

Mr. Talfourd^s ^proceedings’, as you choose to call them, 
were very manly. Our daughter was not reared in France. 
You know what I think of these old formulas. Mr. Talfourd 
simply asked Leah’s permission to speak with you, and 


A KNICKEU HOOKER FAMILY. 


41 


obtained from her only that permission — nothing more.’’ 

Yes, Leah is a sensible girl. She does not discard all the 
good old formulas.” 

When you declined the honor of an alliance with the 
Talfourds in so peremptory a manner, and finished by 
sending Leah a message, through me, forbidding her to 
think of Max Talfourd, you overstepped the limits of your 
power.” 

Madam !” Mr. Paget sat more erect in his chair — if that 
could be. 

When I attempted to speak with you upon the subject, 
you would not hear me.” 

And I do not wish to hear you now.” 

You must hear me now. For a year or more, I had seen 
that an affection was springing into life between Max and 
Leah. When you came between them with your authority, 
Leah was terribly hurt, although she was too proud to let you 
see it. I felt grieved and anxious, for Leah never again men- 
tioned the subject, and I knew that was not a good omen. One 
day Leah came to me in her straightforward way, and put a 
case. ^ Mamma,’ she said, ^ if you were of age, and had al- 
ways been a dutiful daughter, and if you had learned to love 
'a noble young man, your equal in birth and breeding, more 
than your equal in fortune, and if you were sure of yourself and 
of his love, and you were commanded to give him up for no 
better reason than that his father and your father had coased 
to be friends, — what would you do ?’ ” 

And, pray, what did you answer V ” 

It was on that very day that you had told me of Freder- 
ick Quinlan’s suit, and it was in my mind when I gave my an- 
swer. I had not yet told her of it. I said that I could offer 


¥2 


A LOST WITNESS. 


no advice except that she would do well to think seriously, to 
consult her own conscience. She was mistress of her own fate, 
and must judge between the duty she owed her father, and 
the duty she owed herself and the man she loved and who 
loved her. And then I told hei* of Frederick Quinlan’s otfer, 
and that it was your wish that she accept him. I believe after 
that she came to you.” 

She did.” 

And you told her that you would sanction her marriage 
with no other man. Do you want to know what she said to 
me, of that interview ?” 

Humph ! — yes.” 

She said you had made it clear to her that you did not expect 
nor intend that she should marry to please herself; it must be 
to please you.” 

Again she paused, but Mr. Paget remained silent. 

I did not mean to make so many words,” she resumed. 

Tliis is what I came to say : Two days after she put her 
question, she came again to me, and told me that she had ac- 
cepted Max Talfourd.” 

Accepted him ?” 

She said that I need not speak of itto you again. They had 
agreed to keep the engagement a secret, at least not to announce 
it formally, fora time, and that when it seemed best to make it 
known, she herself would inform you. Now, perhaps, you can 
guess why I sent for Max Talfourd this morning.” 

Mr. Paget arose quickly. 

“ Do you mean to tell me, Madam, that my daughter has 
eloped with that fellow ?” he cried. 

Would to heaven it were no worse than that ! No ; I am 
more than ever convinced that something terrible has befallen 


A CALL ON THE CillEF OF POLICE. 


43 


Leah. Max Talfourd is as ignorant of what has happened as 
you or 

I suppose he has made think so/^ he sneered, and turn- 
ing, stalked from the room. 


CHAPTER y. 

A CALL ON THE CHIEF OF POLICE. 

The Chief of Police and Polly Cousin returned together to 
the office of the former and held a brief conference, after which 
Cousin took leave. Then the Chief busied himself issuing 
orders to several trusty men, sending them out upon their mis- 
sions, and hastily dispatching half a dozen telegrams, or more. 
This done, he made sundry entries in a small book which he 
took from a di’awer marked Private^ and returned to it, as soon 
as done, locking the drawer and pocketing the key. Then 
he began to write letters, and was thus engaged, when Max Tal- 
fourd’ s card was placed before him. 

Bring him in,” he said, promptly, and there was a gleam 
of satisfaction in his shrewd eyes. 

Max Talfourd, in the presence of the Chief of Police, was 
not the surprised, vaguely-alarmed, tenderly-respectful young 
man who had bidden farewell to Mrs. Paget a few moments 
before. He came forward quickly and confidently, and wasted 
no words. Tie was very grave, and Connors could see that he 
was anxious ; but he liked the frank greeting and straight- 
forward look that responded to his own. 


44 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Captain Connors/’ Max began, I can’t expect to be as 
well known to you as you are to me. I have not come to de- 
tain you, but to ask fur a little information, which I hope you 
will give me. I learned from Mrs. Paget that your companion 
this morning is a Mr. Cousin ?” 

Connors nodded. 

And that he is to be yonr assistant in this search for — for 
Miss Paget. Is that true?” 

He will be one of my assistants.” 

Thanks. I hope, when we have had an opportunity to talk 
matters over, that you will accept me for another. Just now, I 
am anxious upon one point. This Mr. Cousin, is he one of the 
reporters for the Call ”? 

Connors nodded again. 

“ Have yon any reason for thinking that Mr. Cousin intends 
to make use of this piece of news — of Miss Paget’s unaccount- 
able disappearance — in his reportorial capacity?” 

Do you mean, will Cousin malife an item of it ? I should 
be very much surprised if he has not already done so.” 

The young man’s face darkened. 

I want to prevent this, if possible,” he said. First of all, 
for the young lady’s sake and for the sake of her friends, her 
mother — ” 

He stopped abruptly. The Chief of Police had moved 
nearer and had placed a hand upon his arm. 

Young man,” the Chief began, in a kindly tone, just let 
me say a word before you go on. Miss Paget is missing from 
her homo, and her parents, after making inquiries in various 
directions, have called upon me for aid. Now, when a matter 
comes into the hands of the police, it is past the point where it 
may be handled with gloves, and people’s feelings made the 


A CALL ON TIIPJ CHIEF OF POLICE. 


45 


first consideration. I sanctioned Cousin’s desire to be first in 
the field with tliis bit of news. And, I assure you, tliere will be 
nothing printed but the bare facts — no flights of fancy in- 
dulged in, no prophesies, nothing sensational. I have a strong 
reason for wishing Miss Paget’s friends — the very people from 
whom you are anxious to keep this news — to know that she 
has disappeared.” 

May I ask — ” began Max, but the Cliief stopped him with 
a gesture. 

^^And unless you have information that shall nullify that 
reason, as, for instance, where she is — ” 

I know literally nothing about it.” 

Or unless you know of something that will furnish a prob- 
able motive — something that had better be kept dark for the 
young lady’s sake — ” 

Max Talfourd shook the Chief’s hand from his arm, and 
stepped back. There was a flush upon his cheek, and an an- 
gry gleam in his eyes. 

Understand this,” he said sternly.‘^ The cause of Miss Pa- 
get’s disappearance I neither know nor can I guess ; I cannot 
even iinagine a possible cause. But wdien the truth is learned, — 
if it ever will be,-— it will prove her innocent of any wrong in 
intent or deed.” 

There !” exclaimed the Chief, seeming in no way disturbed 
by his visitor’s manner. I like to hear you see that. Now, 
hear me finish. I wanted Miss Paget’s disappearance an- 
nounced in (hQ^Call ’, because that is the quickest way of inform- 
ing her friends and acquaintances of ihe fact. I mean to visit 
some, perhaps many, of the society people who know her ; and 
what you have just said, convinces me that I am right in think- 
ing that unless they were prepared for rny questions I would 


46 


A LOiT AVITNESS. 


get but short answers. I want these people to know why my 
men or myself come to interview them, without having to waste 
time in explanations.” 

‘‘Still,” said Max, looking only half convinced, “I would 
be glad this were kept out of the papers until tomorrow, at least. 
I know the people of i\\Q^CaU^ slightly, and I intended to visit 
the office.” 

“ Very well,” said the Chief ;”but you will fail. Can I see 
you again tonight — say, at seven o’clock?” 

“ Yes, I’ll be punctual. Thank you.” 

He had the door open before he had ceased speaking, and 
was gone in a moment. 

As the Chief of Police resumed his seat before the desk, a 
smile hovered around his lips. 

“ I’m afraid he won’t be in time,” he muttered, looking not 
in the least afraid. “ But it pleased him, and establishes a 
sort of confidence between us.” 

His hands were moving about the desk as he soliloquized, 
and presently he laughed, as if among his scattered letters and 
papers he had unearthed a good joke. 

Meanwhile, Max Talfourd was being driven rapidly to the 
office of the “ Evening Call”, and the result of his visit, or 
its lack of result, has already been told. 


f'ATHER AND SON. 


47 


CHAPTER VI. 

FATHER AND SON. 

When Max Talfuiird re-entered his cab, he gave the driver 
a number upon Irving Place, and added, as he shut the door, 
“ Drive fast..’^ Tliis order was obeyed, and he was soon 
set down before a stately dwelling. He entered the house 
with a latch-key, and as he was about to cross the hall, a 
maid-servant came tripping down the stairs. 

_ Ah, Annette,’^ he said, as she approached him, we’re very 
quiet here.” 

Yes, sir. Mrs. Talfourd has sent William out on some er- 
rand, and I think the other servants are down stairs.” 

Where is Mi'S. Talfourd ?” 

“In her little sitting-room, sir.” 

And my father ?” 

“ He is there too, Mr. Max. He hasn’t been down stairs 
today.’’ 

“ Not worse ?” 

“ He says not ; he thinks the stairs tire him too much.” 

“ I dare say. Annette, you can go back and tell them that 
I am coming to them.” 

“ They’ll be glad of that, sir.” 

The girl ran lightly up stairs again, and the young man 
followed more slowly. 

Mrs. Talfourd, seated in her dainty sewing-chair near a low 
window filled with blooming plants, received her son’s mes- 


48 


A LOST WITNESS. 


sage with a little ejaculation of delight, and looked for sympa- 
thy over at her husband. He lay stretched upon a couch near the 
flower-burdened window and opposite the little sewing-chair. 

The little sitting-room was a favorite with the mistress of 
the house, and was connected witli her dressing-room, and 
through that with her sleeping-room beyond. And so far 
from modern was the fine old house, that Max Talfoui’d, in re- 
calling his happiest childhood days and his calmest and most 
restful hours of later youth, connected them all with these 
rooms, and chiefest of all, with mother’s little sitting-room”. 

Ah, you runaway boy !” 

It was Mrs. Talfonrd’s soft voice tliat first greeted her son, 
and she half rose from her low seat, gathering up some fleecy 
lace-work with one little tliin hand. 

But in one quick stride Max was beside her. Sit still, 
mother,” he said, putting her back in her chair with a caressing 
movement, and stooping to kiss her forehead. 

And how are you, sir,” crossing to the couch and taking the 
outstretched hand of the invalid. “ Did you think I had 
turned Prodigal Son ?” 

The invalid laughed the cheery laugh of a strong and happy 
man. 

Gad, you ar6 growing a dissipated fellow,” he said, smiling 
lovingly at his handsome son. Away, let me see ; four — • 
no, five, six — how many days, little mother ?” 

Three days and a half, just,” smiled the little woman. 

Well, three days and a half, then. Tliat comes of putting 
him into apartments down town. Apartments will be the ruin 
yet of this country, or rather, this city. I shall not be sur- 
prised to hear some of our city belles setting themselves up in 
apartments next, and making it the fashion.” 


FATHER AND SON. 


49 


Horrible V ejaculated Mrs. Talfoiird. And then, as her 
eyes sought her soids face, her light speech was hushed, and a 
look of anxiety spread over her countenance. 

Max, dear,’^ she said, anxiously, you look pale, and worn. 
Are you not well 

I am quite well, mother,’’ the son answered, in a low tone. 

But I am in serious trouble.” 

Mrs. Talfourd, a small, fair-haired, sweet-faced woman, had 
been an invalid so long that she had ceased to be numbered 
among the Queens of society. Although, when upon some 
rai-e occasion she opened her home to the friends to whom she 
still clung, they came gladly, and went away I’egretting anew 
the loss of so much gentle sv/eetness, and old-time courtesy, 
from their midst. 

Thirty years ago, when Max Talfourd, senior, led Helen Ros- 
siter to tlie altar, people said, “ Wii at a contrast, and how did 
they ever come to make choice of each other !” For Max Tal- 
fourd was big and robust' and jovial, fond of good dinners, 
good society, good horses; not in the least a ladies’ man, al- 
though he was boyishly fond of the dance, and his keen wit and 
unflagging spirits were mucli in demand where gaiety reigned. 

But Mrs. Talfourd began her married life with tlie love that 
begets understanding, and the tact to seize and to use in the 
right way such knowledge as daily contact brouglit. And her 
husband had a generous nature, a profound respect for good 
women, and an innate love of home, its comforts and repose. 

Two children, two delicate baby-girls, had come, and gone 
back to the home of the seraphs. Now, in this sturdy young 
Max, growing up in the image of his father, they centered all 
their hopes and love. And he was in trouble, serious trouble. 

Instantly, the light bantering tone of the father was changed. 


50 


A LOST WITNESS. 


and tlie hiunorous twinkle faded from his eyes. He put out his 
hand and rested it upon his son’s knee, but remained silent. 

For a moment the mother was also silent. Then she leaned 
forward, and, looking earnestly into his eyes, asked : 

What is it. Max ? Can’t you tell us ?” 

A great sigh escaped his lips. 

Thank Heaven ! I can tell you everything, little mother — 
you and my father.” Again, he was silent. Then he turned 
toward his father. 

^‘Sometimes,” he began, during the past winter, you have 
rallied me on what you call my evident penchant for Leah 
Paget, and charged me to beware of her ^ cruel parent’.” 

‘‘Yes,” assented Talfourd, seriously. 

“ Perhaps, I should have told you before this, that for a 
month past I have been engaged to Leah. But we pre- 
ferred to keep it a pleasant secret between ourselves, partly for 
reasons which you might call sentimental, and partly because 
Leah, knowing her father’s prejudices, wished to manage the 
announcement in her own way. It remained our secret until 
today.” 

Mr. Talfourd listened to Max with increasing interest ; then 
slowly raised himself upon one arm until he came to a sitting 
posture. 

“ Do you mean to tell me that old Abner Paget has refused 
his daughter to you, and for no better reason than that he had 
quarrelled with your father somewhere in the middle ages?” 

“ Mr. Paget did that, sir, a month ago, when I wrote ask- 
ing his sanction to our engagement ; or rather, he chose to mis- 
understand my letter, and commanded me not to offer myself to 
Miss Paget.” 

“ Which you had already done ?” 


FA'rHEIl AND SON. 


51 


Wliich I liad already done. We were both of age, social 
equals, and I had no fear of being considered a fortune-hun- 
ter.’’ 

Uinph ! I should think not, indeed. But to-d;iy — if all 
this hnppened a month ago, what was the cause of this morn- 
ing’s oulbreak ?” 

And now. Max Talfourd turned from his indignant father to 
the sympathetic face of his mother. 

Something has happened to Leah Paget. Mother, she is 
missing fi’om her home.” 

And before they could voice their sui prise, he dashed into the 
story of the morning, telling it in detail, from the moment 
when he entered Mrs. Paget’s presence, to the time he had 
turned his back upon the Editor of the “ Call.'’ 

When he had done, there was a moment of silence. Then 
INIi’s. Talfourd drew her chair close to her son, and put her 
hand upon his. 

The touch was a caress, and Max took the small thin hand 
between his own. 

‘‘ Max,” she whispered, ‘^have you perfect confidence iiiLeah 
Paget ?” 

He started, and loosened his grasp upon her hand. 

I have perfect confidence in Leah. Mother, you know her 
— haven’t you ?” 

Yes, my son. Leah Paget seems to me the last young lady 
to attempt an escapade.” 

Thank you, mother !” He lifted her small hand to his lips. 

“ I can’t believe that Leah has left her home of her own 
will. I would as soon think it of — ” 

‘‘ Sara ?” put in her husbnnd. 

Yes, of Sara ; or of myself.” 


52 


A LOST WITNESS. 


But think, mother, yon who know your own sex so well, 
is tliere anything, any reason, sufficient to justify a young girl 
in leaving her home clandestinely 

My son, that is a difficult question to answer. Leah has 
a good mother.’^ 

Oh, yes. Mrs. Paget told me that she had her daughter’s 
confidence. She was aware of our engagement.” 

Mrs. Paget is a good woman,” his mother said, thought- 
fully. I have always regretted the cause of our estrange- 
ment,” glancing quickly at the half-recumbent form of her 
husl)and, and as quickly away. 

The cause, my dear?” he said. 

Well, the fact, then. I confess, I hardly recall the cause.” 

Gad !” sitting erect again, no more do I — in detail. A 
business difference began it.” 

And a difference in temperament has helped to keep it 
alive ?” 

Mrs. Talfourd smiled as she completed her husband’s sen- 
tence, and sighed as her glance came back to the grave face of 
her son. Max turned toward his father. 

Was this hostile feeling, on your part, sir, so strong as to 
have caused you to look unfavorably upon my engagement with 
Mils Paget ?” 

Hostile fiddlestrings ! Would I turn my back upon the 
prettiest girl in town, because her father happens to be an ob- 
stinate old pig ?” 

Thank you, sir.” The voice of the elder was cheery, and 
his eyes smiled into those of his son. But the face and the 
voice of the latter were grave. ^^Then there is no question of 
that. You and my mother. will accept Leah when — when I 
bring her to vou ?” 


FATHER AND SON. 


53 


Instantly, the face of the elder Talfoiird became grave. 

Max,’^ he said, slowly, “ is that just the qiiestion to ask of 
us now ?” 

Yes. It is just the question. It is the only question.’^ 
Ilis brow darkened. He arose, and stood midway between the 
two, lookijig from one to the other. Then, in the momentary 
silence that followed his firmly-spoken words, and with his eyes 
upon them, he made a backward movement toward the door. 

Max cried Mrs. Talfourd, rising hastily and putting out 
her slender arms imploringly, as a look she knew well — a look 
of fixed determination — settled upon his handsome features. 

Max, my son, what is it ? Tell us— tell us the worst 

Max began his father. There was a tone of sternness in 
his voice, and a sudden gravity overspread his face, bringing 
out, and emphasizing, the strong resemblance between father and 
son. “ Max, are you keeping somethijig back? — something 
that— 

He checked his speech suddenly, for the girl Annette 
opened the door, and coming forward, presented a card to her 
mistress. 

Mrs. Talfourd took it mechanically, glanced at the name 
upon it, and then, with a look of surprise and uncertainty, 
turned toward her husband. 

“ It is Mrs, Paget, she said. 


54 


A LOST WITNESS. 


CHAPTER VII. 


LA BKLLE FABRICE’\ 


dear, I can’t tliiiik wliat’s come over you.” 

I don’t want yon to think what’s come over me, Conny. I 
want yon to drop this subject, and to let it discreetly alone.” 

^^Oh, very well. Only, yon know your own saying, I hope 
— ^ a secret between friends’ — ” 

Yes, yes;” impatiently. “I’m awfully sorry, Conny 
darling. I’d give more than yon know to get back the past 
forty-eight hours ()r so, or to forget them. I would indeed ! But 
don’t ask me another question, for if you do — ” 

The plump and serene-faced woman, half buried in a loung- 
ing chair close to the open window, uttered a low mellow laugh. 

“ There ! there ! I am mute as a fish from this moment. 
Bless your heart, child, when you have seen as many moons 
as I have, you will know that there’s nothing in this world 
worth getting into a rage about.” 

No, I won’t, Conny. It isn’t in the grain.” 

The little figure, turning and twisting about in front of the 
Queen Anne mirror, pirouetted away from the swinging glass 
and then back again, gave a twitch to her hair, caught up a 
huge feather-duster, and then turned toward the window with a 
sudden gravity. 

How is it ?” she asked, briskly. 


“ LA BELLE FA BRICE 


55 


The lounger at the window eyed the questioner smilingly, 
the costume critically. 

It’s perfect,” she said, after a slow survey. 

“ Perfect ? how ?” 

The real thing ; jaunty but not too fine.” 

Yes. That’s it. Does it look — do I look, like a son,- 
brette 

My dear, you look like a very youthful, a very pretty, a 
very saucy little housemaid ; one of the sort that’s certain to 
lose her place in six weeks, to come to grief in three months, 
and then — ” 

“ That’s quite enough, thank you. It’s all I aimed at. If I 
look my character, I’m satisfied. Oh, dear !” 

Some one was tapping at the door opening upon the land- 
ing. T\\q petite figure with the duster turned toward this 
door with a frown and a gesture denoting impatience; then 
swiftly back again, the frown gone, the face beaming with ro- 
guery, a warning finger uplifted. With a final glance at the 
swinging mirror, and a defiant flap of the duster, she went 
quickly toward the door, flung it wide open, and stood gazing 
blankly into the face of the applicant for admission. 

But, if the face of the pretty and perfectly equipped little 
housemaid was expressionless, save for a stare of too evident 
curiosity, tliat of the young man before her was mildly and dis- 
armingly bland and confiding. Indeed, the whole was a de- 
lightful bit of comedy, for the bland young man was our friend 
Polly Cousin, and the surprised and staring damsel of the 
duster, was none other than the dainty little actress La 
Belle Fabrice”. 

For a full minute — it seemed longer to the lounger at the 
window, who was invisible to the young man — the two sur- 


56 


A LOST WITNESS. 


veyecl each other in blank, cxpre.saioiilerfs silence. Then the 
young man bowed, and there was a faint giggle from the 
young woman, accompanied by a simper and a little bridling 
movement that woiihl have won for her, behind the footlights, 
a round of applause. 

Another moinent of vacant staring, and then the skirts of the 
lounger by the window were heard to rustle. Fabrice turned 
her head slightly, and the hand holding tlie duster moved ever 
so little. The rustling, which had been plainly heard by the 
applicant at the door, ceased. 

Beg pardon, miss/^ began Cousin, beginning a search 
through vai'ious pockets f n* something. May I see the lady 
that^s stopping here?’^ 

‘‘Stopping where ?’^ asks Fabrice, slowly, and with a strong 
nasal accent. 

“ Why, here,’^ beginning to dig in a second pocket, “ in these 
apartments.’’ 

“Oh !” said Fabrice, glancing again over her shoulder and 
giving her duster another inconsequent flap, “ I s’pose you 
mean — ” 

“ Miss Fabrice !” interrupts the visitor. “ La Belle Fa- 
brice.” 

The soft rustle is again heard, and Polly Cousin suddenly 
shifts his position, moving forward, and squarely up to the 
threshold, wliere he is rewarded by the sight of ten inches of 
bi-ight-hued cashmere, trailing itself out of sight behind a tall 
Japanese screen. 

Seized with the idea that it is La Belle Fabrice who is es- 
caping him, he quickly steps across the threshold, at the same 
time and by a seemingly careless movement, throwing open his 
coat, thereby displaying a small star upon the inner lapel. 


“ LA BELLL FABKICE’'. 


57 


As if this display was unintentional, he hastily jerks the 
coat into place, and pulls from the last unexplored pocket a 
handful of cards, and a sealed, unaddressed envelope. Hold- 
ing these in his hands, he glances keenly at thej9e& figure 
bef )re him, and is rewarded by a look betokening newly-awak- 
ened curiosity, and by the ejaculation, Well, I never f’ 

Do you see this He holds a card toward her, and 
smiles insinuatingly. 

But Fabrice turns from him, and seizes upon the nearest chair, 
which she begins to dust vigorously. 

Polly Cousin grasps the opportunity to look about him. He 
sees a well-furnished sitting-room, strewn with feminine knick- 
knacks, a rich-hued shawl trailing from a low-backed chair, a 
strip of embroidery and an open book upon the broad window- 
seat, near which the softly-cushioned, luxurious rocker is still 
vibrating. A broad-brimmed hat with sweeping plumes oc- 
cupies one end of a low couch, while a pug dog sleeps comfor- 
tably upon the soft cushions of the other. Gloves and par- 
asols, handkerchiefs and fans, are scattered about ; a basket- 
like affair, big as a small trunk, stands beside the swinging 
mirror, and through its lialf-opened lid he catches a glimpse 
of Oriental color— yellow silk folds, and billows of lace. On the 
floor, close beside the big Japanese screen, is an open play-book, 
and some small leaves of MSS., which Cousin instantly recog- 
nizes as a parf ^ in some play. Beyond the screen he sees, over 
its top, a door, half open ; and, recognizing all as the abode of 
a stage Star, he says to himself, She is in, then.^^ Again, he 
turns to the busy figure with the duster, and says, still proffe'- 
ring his card : 

Will you please give this to your mistress?’’ His tone is 
very mild, but at the word ; the flying duster stops. 


58 


A LOST WI’I'NESS. 


My mistress /’’ The little figure is instinct with offended 
dignity. 3Iy mistress P with a cat(;h of the breath and an 
angry sweep of the duster. IM like to know what you 
take me Tor 

Eii Cousin comes a step nearer. Come, iiow,^’ he says, 
coaxingly, I know who you are, of course.’’ 

Oh !” with a toss of the head and a sniff of derision, I’m 
much obliged tc you.” Again the duster is brought into action, 
and Cousin is forced to continue ids conversation as he follows 
the little flying figure about the room. 

You’re La Belle’s maid ?” 

“ Umph !” No other reply does she deign. She has reached 
a little table upon which rests a basket of cut flowers, and half 
a dozen bouquets in as many bowls and vases. She lifts the bas- 
ket gingerly, as if unaccustomed to handle such dainty bur- 
dens, and sniffs at the bouquets, holding them at arm’s length to 
gaze and admire. 

‘‘ Look here, my girl,” — Cousin is beginning to grow impa- 
tient — will you stop a moment and listen to me ?” 

/riie counterfeit housemaid throws down the duster with one 
hand, deposits a bunch of Jacquemiuots upon the table with 
the other, and turns an irate face upon her pursuer. 

What do you want ?” she says, impatiently. 

“ Whose rooms ai‘e these?” 

I don’t know.” 

What ! you don’t know ?” 

No !” shortly, and stooping to pick up the duster, how 
should I ?” 

See here, my girl, as you won’t tell me who you are, let 
me tell you who I am.” 

Fabrice begins to dust again vigorously. I don’t want 



“ I3k — BE YOU Captain Con — ners?” she asks doubtfully. 

Page 6o. 


59 



60 


A LOST WITNESS. 


to know who you ure. You ain’t much to look at, anyway !” 

Very wise men, very great men, have their weaknesses. Polly 
Cousin has his. Many a sigh had he heaved before his mirror 
because of his uninteresting appearance. He took a quick step 
toward this obdurate young woman, and thrust the card which 
he iield, directly before her face. 

Can you read that?” he asked, impatiently. 

She stopped short and looked attentively at the card. 

Cap — tain — Con-nors,” she pronounced, slowly, ‘‘Chief. 
— of Po — lice. My !” She turns quickly and inspects her 
tormentor afresh, seemingly with renewed interest ; then sud- 
denly drops back a pace, her face taking on a look of gravity. 

“ Be — be you Captain Con-nors ?” she asks, doubtfully. 

“ Are you La Belle Fabrice’s maid ?” he asks, with renewed 
<'arnestness. 

“ No — no, sir.” The change in her tone is marked, and her 
manner becomes at once apprehensively respectful. 

“ Who are you, then ?” 

“ I — I’m the new chambermaid.” 

“ Oh !” Mr. Cousin becomes aggressive in proportion as the 
saucy face before him changes to one of fearful and hesitating 
willingness to be catechized. He looks at her keenly, doubtfully. 

“You are the new' chambermaid, eh? But these rooms — 
you know whose they are?” 

I — T don’t know their names.” 

“ Look here, my girl,’’ drawing nearer and lowering his tone, 
“ who was sitting at that window a moment ago?” 

She turned toward the window indicated, and, with slowly 
brightening countenance, turns back and whispers : 

“ That was one of them !” Then, before he can ask the 
question that rises to his lips, she lifts a warning finger, tip- 


61 


“ LA BELLE FABRrCE^\ 

toes up to the screeu, peeps caiuiously beliiiul it, and comes tip- 
toeing back. 

And now she is positively beaming. 

It’s the old one,” she says, her voice just rising above a 
whisper. Slie can’t hear very good, and she’s gone into the 
other room, anyhow.’’ 

Again she brandishes her duster, this time with manifest 
carelessness, and Cousin sees at once that she is quite at her ease. 

A pert little simpleton,” he thinks ; and, still mentally, 

rather pretty, though !” 

What do you mean by ^the old one?’ ” he asks, slightly at 
a loss how to proceed. 

‘‘ Why, there’s two, you know,” she explains, readily. The 
other’s little and young — something like me,” supplements 
this audacious little impostor. 

Oh ! and where is she ?” 

My ! how should I know ?” 

“Umph ! and don’t you know their names?” 

Me ? My goodness ! I guess you ain’t never been cham- 
bermaid in a hotel. When I come in here they don’t pay any 
more attention to me than as if— as if I wasn’t anybody. I 
think I’m as good as them.” And with a toss of her head she 
skips ov^er to the couch, catches up the plumed hat, and surveys 
it with well-aifected curiosity. 

Cousin stands irresolute. He has come prepared to be refused 
admittance, to be snubbed by the fair actress, to encounter and 
vanquish various obstacles. But to be put to rout by such ob- 
tuseness as this — He runs his hand over his short scant locks, 
and gives his injured- feelings vent in an impatient shrug of his 
stooping shoulders. Then he takes a step toward the couch. 

'' What is the young one like ?” he asks, in a tone meant to 
be insinuatingly confidential. 


62 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Like?’’ tossing down the plumed hat. -Why, I said — 
something like me.” 

Like yon ? Now, don’t you know lliat you’re a very 
pretty girl ?” 

“ My ! Most everybody says that to me !” She tosses her 
head, giggles inanely, bridles up to the mirror, and standing 
befoi-e it, critically surveys her charms. They consist of two 
long tow-colored tails of hair, an exceedingly frowzy bang, and 
a maid’s cap, none too smart, yet suited to the entire ensemble ; 
a pair of dark eyes, twisted into what seems to be a permanent 
squint ; a small mouth, that constantly vacillates between a sim- 
per and a prim pucker; some freckles, so well laid on across 
the nose and upper half of the countenance as to deceive even 
astute Polly Cousin ; small hands, fortunately concealed by a 
])air of ragged cotton gloves; a huge blue gingham apron 
slightly smutched in places, and with a three-cornered tear 
visible at one side ; and a grey stuff gown that disclosed beneath 
a pair of slippers small and shapely, but down at the heel. 

As she stands thus before the mirror, she hears distinctly a 
sound, that she knows to be suppressed laughter, from behind 
the screen, and once more is inspired to new mischief. 

As she turns away from the mirror and again begins to ply 
her duster, she says, over her shoulder, Her ma’s awful fat, 
ain’t she ?” 

Her ma !” Cousin starts and looks blank. Do you 
mean — ?” 

The old one,” plying her duster recklessly, and approach- 
ing by degrees the cushion where the png dog still slumbers. 

Cousin frowns impatiently and approaches the couch from 
the opposite direction. 

Look here, my girl — just stop that duster, will yon ?” His 


LA BELLE FABRICE’\ 


63 


voice sinks to a confidential half whisper, and he is just trans- 
forming his frown into an insinuating smile, when the girl 
turns toward iiim a face of attentive interest and stops — stops, 
as she brings her duster with a careless flap down upon the 
black nose of the sleeping pug. 

It is the ludicrous climax toward which La Belle has been 
artfully working, and it is not to be described. 

Cousin has a confused sense of being reduced to breathless- 
ness by the quick concussion of some small but solid body; of 
clinging arms in the rear, of clinging claws and teeth in front. 
To add to his discomfiture, the duster had descended upon 
him, sweeping his face and causing his eyes to brim with tears. 

Cousin shakes himself, desperately but uselessly. Heavens, 
how that small handmaiden screams and clutches his collar ! 
How the pug snarls and claws and tears at his nether garments ! 
In vain he grasps at the clinging hands; in vain he shakes 
himself, kicks at his tormentor, and ejaculates impiously. 

A ringing peal of laughter is heard, and deliverance comes. 
Something, which for all that he can see, or guess, at the first, 
may be a big blue cyclone,. swoops down u])on the writhing 
trio. The ])ug is ignominiously clutched by his fat l)ack, vig- 
orously shaken, and deposited, rampant and snarling, upon his 
cushion. The clinging hands are wrenched from his shoul- 
der, and our reporter stands released, but wretched, face to 
face with a stately woman in a h\\\Q peignoir. With one hand 
upon the shoulder of the wicked little housemaid, the lady stands 
struggling with the laughter, that will have its way, as she 
scans the figure before her. 

Suddenly, she controls herself and turns to the girl, who 
stands like an affrighted criminal, cowering under her hand. 

Leave the room, miss,’’ she says, with much severity, and 


64 


A LOST witnp::ss. 


a vigorous push toward the screen, behind whicli La Belle in- 
stantly vanishes. Then she turns again to Polly Cousin and 
simply points toward the door. 

Madam, will you allow me — 

Not a word.’^ Madam’s face is instantly grave ; she sweeps 
toward the door, and the pug springs down and lands directly 
at tlie reporter’s feet. He retreats immediately. 

Madam opens the door with a magnificent gesture. Now, 
sir,” she says. 

Cousin looks at the menacing pug, at the frayed knees of his 
trousers, at the tatters below, and then up into the face of the 
lady beside the open door. 

Madam — ” 

Will you go, sir ?” Slie lifts her hand toward the bell ; the 
pug growls and presses closer. 

If you will just — ” 

Madam touches the bell. The pug growls again and lays 
hold of a fluttering rag. Cousin mutters a malediction, and 
hears, at the same instant, a sound which he recognizes. It is 
the elevator coming down. He glances once more into Mad- 
am’s uncompromising face, shakes off the pug with a force that 
sends him yelping half across the room, dashes out, and into 
the elevator as it halts on its downward way. 

As he steps from the elevator at the street’s entrance, miser- 
ably conscious of his tattered knee?;, a young man briskly enters. 
There is a momentary halt as a party of ladies flutter forward, 
crowding the elevator, pressing Cousin to the wall in their haste, 
and causing the young man to step outside while they arrange 
their draperies. In the moment of waiting, Cousin surveys 
the serene-faced young man. 

One glance at the square stalwart shoulders, the florid feat- 


LA BELLE FA BRICE 


65 


ures, the wide blue eyes, the mutton-chop wliiskers, and close- 
cropped fair hair, is enough, without the thoroughly English 
cut and cloth of his garments, and formal, punctilious court- 
liness, to assure him here was an Englishman, fresh from his 
native land. 

Before the elevator had reached the first landing. Cousin 
had apparently found his senses. 

“ An Englishman,’^ he said, as he turned from the up-going 
elevator ; and then, with an ejaculation, he added as he halted 
at the entrance, Two to one, that Englishman is Sir Felix 
Wynton 11 !” 

Suddenly he paused, slapped his right hand against his left 
breast, walked deliberately back to the long leather-covered 
seat near the door of waiting, and, utterly ignoring his tattered 
condition, sat down and drew from his breast-pocket a thin 
square leather case. It opened, in his hand, displaying a pho- 
tograph — the pictured face of La Belle Fabrice, given him 
that very morning by Manager Horton. 

For a long moment he gazed at the pretty, piquant profile. 
Then, closing his eyes, he seemed to be taking a mental view 
of something otherwise invisible. A moment more, and Polly 
Cousin is upon his feet again. 

Sold he mutters, lifting an angry face toward the eleva- 
tor shaft. Sold completely by that little sinner ! Very 
good, La Belle Fabrice ; very good !” He thrusts the case 
back into its place, and drops again upon the seat, his face 
flushed, his lips compressed. Polly Cousin, who seldom loses 
his temper, has lost it now. 

When the elevator comes down opposite to him, and the 
door slides open, Cousin steps in, and says, as he seats himself. 

Back again.” 

Same floor asks the boy. 


( 3 ) 


66 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Cousin nods, and in a moment steps out upon the landing, 
just half a dozen paces from the door of the room which he 
has so lately left. 

There is no one on the landing save himself. The door of 
Fabrice’s room stands half open ; the elevator moves on. 

Through the open door he sees a tableau. Madam Con- 
greve, sitting upon the couch with the pug nestled contentedly 
in lier lap, is extending a welcoming hand to the young En- 
glishman, and the little Comedienne is standing near by, hold- 
ing in her fingers a card, — his card, — telling something, at the 
conclusion of which they join her in a ringing peal of laughter. 

A sudden movement on tlie part of Fabrice brings her face 
toward Cousin. She sees him and instantly comes to the door. 
There is no laughter in the eyes that fling at him one haughty, 
contemptuous glance; no smile upon the curling lips that say, 
as the owner steps across the threshold and flings the card at 
his feet : 

“ Last evening, sir, you were pointed out to me as an ‘ en- 
terprising reporter.’ Allow me to thank you for this peculiar 
specimen of American enterprise and impudence.” 

The door closes, not noisily, but with a firm swift click, and 
Cousin bears a sound like the shooting of a bolt into its socket. 
He takes up the card, steps into the elevator, and in a moment 
is at the entrance of the great building. 

His face assumes its usual outward calm, but he glances up- 
ward as he moves away, and mutters between his teeth : 

To day is yonr day, La Belle Fabrice ! But you and I 
are sure to meet again, and my day will come !” 

Alas, for Fabrice ! It came only too soon. And its shad- 
ows enveloped more than La Belle Fabrice, and more than the 
man who uttered the threat in a fit of professional pique. 


CONFIDENTIAL. 


G7 


CHAPTER yill. 

CONFIDENTIAL. 

La Belle Fabrice came away from the door, when she had 
closed it in the face of the too-presumptuous reporter, with a 
very grave look. Her little farce was ended ; and the dignity 
with which she now turned toward her latest guest, was almost 
as absurd as her former impromptu comedy, because of the in- 
congruity between lier costume and her manner. 

I was trying the effect of a gown for my new comedy, when 
that person forced his way in,’^ she said. You will excuse me, 
Sir Felix, while I make myself more presentable. I leave you 
in good company.’’ Slie bowed toward Madam Congreve, 
and flitted behind the Japanese screen. 

La Belle Fabrice — there was no one, It was said, who knew 
her by any other name — was fresh from a season of brilliant 
success abroad, social as well as dramatic ; for she possessed not 
only undisputed genius in her chosen profession, but great per- 
sonal beauty, sparkling wit, a captivating piquancy of man- 
ner, an untarnished reputation, and, last but not least, a mys- 
tery. 

It was small wonder, therefore, if she had brought in her 
train, as a living testimonial of her social successes, a live lord, 
— and a very devoted one, — in the person of Sir Felix Wyn- 
toun of Wynne Merton. Indeed, as Madam Congreve was 
fond of saying when singing the praises of her favorite, the 
wonder was, that she came with only one suitor out of the 


68 


A LOST WITNESS. , 


scores who luid helped to form her goodly court in so many 
London drawing-rooms. 

During Fabrice^s absence, Madam Congreve regaled the 
young man with a description of the late episode, and, being 
a fluent talker, with a keen sense of the ludicrous, the absurd 
dialogue lost nothing of its absurdity in the telling. Fabrice 
could hear, through the half-closed door behind the screen, the 
mellow voice of her friend, and the hearty peals of laughter 
with which Sir Felix frequently interrupted the flow of Mad- 
am’s words. 

Presently, however, the voices took a different and a lower 
tone, and she knew by the sound, and by the soft rolling of a 
chair across the carpet, that the talkers were moving further 
from the screen, and that their conversation was growing confi- 
dential. 

More whispering of secrets,” mused Fabrice, as she smiled 
back at her reflections in the three-sided mirror. “About 
me, of course. Poor Conny !” And then, more softly, 
and with a little sigh, “ Poor Sir Felix !” She noiselessly 
closed the door, shutting out the low hum of voices, and went 
back to her toilet with another sigh. 

As the closing door shut out the sound of his voice. Sir Felix 
Wyntoun was looking anxiously into the kindly eyes of the 
lady sitting near him, and saying, half deprecatingly : 

“ I came, you see. Pardon me, I couldn’t take your advice.” 

“ Could not keep it, you mean,” replied Madam Congreve, 
smiling indulgently. “ To be perfectly frank with you. Sir 
Felix, I didn’t believe that you would be guided by it.” 

“ Oh, but I was — at first.” 

“ At first — yes ; fi’om the sailing of one steamer to the next. 
Why, you poor boy, you might as well have come with us !” 


CONFIDENTIAL. 


69 


I only wish I had,” said Sir Felix, so ruefully that Madam 
Congreve laughed outright. You can’t think how hard time 
is on a fellow when he wants to kill it.” 

Calf t I ?” 

And then, somehow, she seems to have changed— to have 
gotten further away from me in these few days.” 

Madam Consrreve sisrhed. 

Sometimes I think she has drifted away from me, too,” she 
said, and then she hither lip, and frowned. I didn’t mean 
just that. Sir Felix,” she added, hastily. Fabrice has too 
kind a heart to hurt me by word or deed. And I believe she 
is too kind, too good, to hurt you in any way. You know 
how it was in London — always surrounded ; so much society 
en masse, that society a dieux was not to be thought of. And 
it’s much the same now, with this difference : Fabrice finds many 
old friends here. And now she has her own way, her liberty, 
so much more. Perhaps, I have selfishly taken advantage of 
this. I like to stay at home and read my novel, when I can. 
And Fabrice kindly humors me. She’s wise enough to respect 
the proprieties, and too sensible to be a prude. I believe that 
Fm the only living Englishwoman without a talent for the 
dragon business. I’m not a born chaperone’’ 

Sir Felix laughed. “ It’s almost equivalent to saying you’re 
not an Englishwoman.” 

I know it, she answered, lightly. But, about Fabrice. 
When I promised to help you — did I promise ?” 

Sir Felix Wyntoun lifted his head, and there was a ring of 
hurt pride in his tone. What I asked of you. Madam Con- 
greve,- was, I trust, no more than a gentleman might honorably 
ask of a lady whf)m he esteemed and trusted. I am sure, 
you promised me nothing that a lady might not grant.” 


16 


A LOST WITNESS. 

She made an effort to interrupt him, hut he hurried on : 

“ I asked yon to be my friend — to give me your confidence. 
I told yon what my feelings and my aspirations were. I ask 
you again, now, to tell me if yon think I have any reason to 
hope. Of course, I know that I limst be patient.’’ 

■ Indeed, you must !” she returned, earnestly. 

And I ask yon, too, to tell me, now or at any other time — I 
hardly know how to say this, it is so hateful to me — but if you 
see — if you are sure — there is no hope-^” 

Oh, do not think I meant that !” 

No, I do not think it. I won’t think it ; not yet. Mind, 
I do not ask you to betray confidences, only to stand my friend, 
and to speak as well of me, to her, as you can.” 

I can say nothing that is not good of you, Sir Felix. But, 
let us understand each other. I love Fabrice dearly, but we are 
only friends. I have not her entire confidence ; that you un- 
derstand ?” 

Oh, yes !” 

But she calls me her best friend ; I mean to be her truest.” 

Not that superlative, please.” 

Well, as true as the truest, then. Will that suffice you?” 

Sir Felix nodded. 

I do not question Fabrice ; I trust her. You must do the 
same.” 

Sir Felix looked at her startled — a question in his face which 
she. was quick to see. 

I mean, that you must let her see that your regard for her is 
without question ; that you require nothing ; that you can 
bide her time. And now, we have been dealing in confidences 
long enough. I do not believe that you have, as yet, any need 
to fear or to complain. Fabrice never gushes ; but she likes 


CONFIDENTIAL. 


71 


you, she respects you, she speaks well of you. I do not think 
she cares more for any one. You have a clear field ; but 
you must not expect too much help from me. We modem 
fairy-godmothers are sadly deficient. We do not inherit the 
wings, the talismans, of our ancestresses. Even our broom- 
sticks have been diverted from their original uses.^^ 

I have heard so,^’ said Felix, with a hearty laugh, which 
was echoed by a voice behind him. 

And I heard that speech about broomsticks,’’ said Fabrice, 
coming forward and seating herself near Madam Congreve. 

What was the subject, Conny ?” 

She took her friend’s hand between her own, gave it a little 
significant pressure, which Madam Congreve perfectly under- 
stood, and smiled frankly across at Sir Felix. 

In the instant of silence, natural to the situation, which fol- 
lowed the coming of Fabrice, Sir Felix turned guiltily scarlet, 
and Madam Congreve, glancing askance at the fair smiling face 
beside her, wondered if Fabrice had not heard more than those 
few last words. Then the young man spoke. 

You cannot think how lonely I felt in that big box last 
night. The music was really good — you would have enjoyed 
it, I am sure. Oh, how I regretted that previous engage- 
ment !” 

He spoke as if addressing both ladies, and his eyes rested 
last on the face of Madam Congreve, and lingered there. 

Engagement ?” Madam Congreve said, and then stopped 
suddenly, as her imprisoned hand felt a second quick pressure. 
^^01), yes,” smiling vaguely; you are very kind. Sir 
Felix.”"^ 

was all my fault,” broke in Fabrice; Madam Con- 
greve would never have missed a symphony concert of her own 


4 


72 A I^OST WITNESS. 

free will. Don’t blame her, Sir Felix, and I will confess to 
you that I too regretted it.” 

Again her fingers pressed those of her friend. And then 
she elided away from the subiect. Are you going to like 
New York, Sir Felix?” 

I really cannot say,” with a nervous laugh. I havn’t as 
yet, Fm afraid, begun to do so.” 

No ? And you’ve been here—” 

J ust seven days.” 

^^Sir Felix, that’s treason! The city will rise against 
you.” 

Madam Congreve stirred uneasily, and withdrew her hand 
from that of her friend. Has Jane returned, dear ?” she 
asked, as if suddenly remembering something important and 
overlooked. 

Yes • just a moment ago.” 

Madam Congreve arose. It is my turn to be ^ excused’,” 
she said, with a smile meant entirely for Sir Felix, Only for 
a moment ; I have a commission for Jane.” 

She moved away from the window, ignoring an appealing 
look from Fabrice, but casting back at her, as Sir Felix arose 
and moved back a pace, a glance of mingled reproach and of- 
fended dignity. 

Again, for a moment there was silence, and then Fabrice 
lifted her eyes and saw that her guest was still standing, and 
that his countenance wore a look akin to that parting glance of 
Madam Congreve’s. 

Their eyes met, and Sir Felix put out his hand, and was about 
to take up his hat. 

You are not going. Sir Felix?” she asked, quickly. 

Perhaps it would be best.” He hesitated a moment, and 


CONFIDENTIAL. 


73 


flushed* My call is inopportune, 1 fear. I am unfortu- 
nate — ” 

Fabrice arose now, and her own cheeks glowed rosily. 

One moment, please, she said, quickly. I want to say 
something to you. Sir Felix — to ask a favor, or rather, your — 
your indulgence, for a time, at least. I must get it over before 
Madam Congreve returns.” 

The color burned hotly in her cheeks, her eyes drooped be- 
fore his. For the first time, Sir Felix Wyntoun saw embar- 
rassment in the face and maimer of the self-controlled little ac- 
tress. It restored his own self-possession, and brought back 
his courage. 

He replaced his hat upon the table, beside the numerous 
floral offerings, and stood looking down upon her with patient 
deference. 

It’s about your invitation to the symphony concert,” she 
began. Vfhen you mentioned it to me. Madam Congreve 
was out. Slie had gone to call upon an old friend, and it was 
quite late when she came back. In fact — ” As she hesitated, 
there came a tap at the outer door, followed by the entrance of 
a servant, who presented a card. 

She took it and glanced at the name, while a little frown con- 
tracted her brows. Then she lifted her eyes to the face of Sir 
Felix. 

‘‘ Do you know Mr. Frederick Quinlan ?” she asked. 

I have met him, at his club.” 

Fabrice turned to the servant. 

Show the gentleman up,” she said. 

As the servant went out, she tossed the card down among the 
bouquets and vases, and turned, to see that Sir Felix was again 
flushing hotly, and once more about to possess himself of his 


74 


A LOST WITKESS. 


hat. But La Belle Fabrice was now mistress of herself and 
the situation. 

Sir Felix/^ she said, you will oblige me if you can re- 
main until this gentleman has paid his call.’^ 

He hesitated, and then, as he turned to resume his seat be- 
side the window. La Belle took the place opposite him, lately 
vacated by Madam Congreve. 

Thank you/^ she said, when the door opened and admitted 
Frederick Quinlan. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A BEAUTIFUL MYSTERY. 

Frederick Quinlan was a figure in New York society. He 
was not only the son of a millionaire, but he was the only son 
of a millionaire. And while society boasted many sons of 
millionaires, and some only sons, young Quinlan possessed, be- 
sides, a fortune of his own, descended from the maternal grand- 
mother. He held, also, by right of an early partnership, a full 
half of his father’s riches under his control ; for Frederick 
Quinlan was a man of business, as well as a man of society, 
and was known as well in Wall Street as in the Park and upon 
the Avenues. 

In person, he was a slender, fair-faced young man, of me- 
dium height, with pale regular features, large light blue eyes, 
and a high forehead, from which his thin light iiair was 


A BEAUTIFUr. I^IYSTERY. 


75 


brushed carelessly buck ; he wore a short pale mustache above 
his thill, straight-lipped mouth and white gleaming teeth, and 
his dress was at all times faultless almost to foppishness. 

He was a fluent talker, when he chose to talk, and his man- 
ners were, or could be, affable and winning. He was said to 
be at home in all places and among all people, and his self- 
possession was proverbial. Quinlan is always cooP^, tiny 
said of him at his club. 

He had seen and admired La Belle Fabrice abroad ; but it 
was only as others admired her — at a distance. He had been 
among the first, however, to seek her acquaintance upon her 
arrival in New York. Frederick Quinlan was not the one to 
do anything by halves that he thought worih doing. 

For a few moments they chatted in the conventional way. 
Madam Congreve had rejoined them, the clouds all vanished 
from her brow, and every one seemed at ease. 

They talked of Europe and America, of London and New 
York, of society on this side of the Atlantic and on the other, 
of music and the drama, and so on to personalities, and of the 
debut of La Belle Fabrice. 

I shall be a private citizen for two weeks yet,’’ Fabrice 
said. We are not all here.” 

You mean your support, I suppose,” said Quinlan. You 
are too modest. Mademoiselle.” 

I mean Manager Horton’s Company,” she persisted. 

My suj)port is all here,” and she nodded laughingly toward 
Madam Congreve. 

AVhile the talk went on, the maid placed upon a small table 
near Quinlan half a dozen papers, moist from the press. 
Madam Congreve put out a hand and drew one of them 
toward her. 


76 


A I.OST ^VITNESS. 


I have always had an appetite for fresh news/^ she said, 
beginning to scan the columns. ‘^And, true to my profes- 
sion, I look for the dramatic items first/^ 

Fubrice laughed lightly. 

Don’t be selfish, Conny. Read us the interesting items, 
if they are not too long.’’ 

Interesting items in print are never long,” said Quinlan, 
sententiously. May I distribute the mail. Madam?” 

Madam nodded. He tossed a paper over to Sir Felix, with 
a smile, and presented another to Fabrice, with a courtly bow. 

Suddenly, Madam Congreve uttered a sharp exclamation. 

Hear this, Fabrice,” she said ; and you too, gentlemen. 
You are sure to be interested.” 

She lifted the paper, folded it for more convenient holding, 
and read aloud the following paragraph : 

A BEAUTIFUL UNKNOWN. 

For nearly two months our parks and avenues have been brightened, 
seldom at first but more frequently of late, by the presence of a beauti- 
ful woman, sometimes driving a pair of jetty ponies, and accompanied 
only by an equally jetty small tiger perched behind, and sometimes 
mounted upon a superb English hunter. Splendid equipages and lovely 
ladies are not rare sights among us ; but when a beautiful woman rid- 
ing or driving such horses, is seen day after day, wherever wealth and 
beauty and fashion are oftenest on display, the question “ Who is she?’’ 
at once arises. Until now, no answer to this inquiry has been found. 
Society, though interested, and admiring, knew her not. Day by day 
she came and went— an exquisite picture of warm tropical beauty, per- 
fectly costumed, as befitted her equipage, and seemingly serenely uncon- 
scious of the curious and admiring eyes that followed her as she 
whirled through the park, speaking to no one, recognizing no one, 
always alone. But some one has whispered the secret ; the Beautiful 
IVIvstery is a mystery no longer. 

There are few travelled New Yorkers who will not remember, at 


A BEAUTIFUL MYSTERY. 


77 


least by name, Hortense Novalis, the charming young actress who set all 
London wild two or three seasons ago, and who suddenly disappeared 
from the London stage. Her coming and her going were both meteor- 
like, and now she shoots atliwart the vision of the New World and society. 
It is said tiiat M’lle Novalis occupies, at present, a charming suite of apart- 
ments in one of our up town monster palaces, and that her suite and 
service are marvels of Oriental taste and luxury, such as only boundless 
wealth can bestow. We have not yet learned whether the lady contem- 
plates a dehut in this country or not. 

Madam Congreve let the paper fall upon her lap, and 
crossed her hands upon it, looking, as she did so, from face to 
face. 

Comments are in order/^ she said, and added quickly, turn- 
ing to Fabrice — Why, my dear, it must be — it is — the one I 
described to you the other day.^^ Then, addressing the young 
men : ‘‘A perfect brunette; — a clear, pale olive complexion, scar- 
let lips, big dark eyes, hair like soft black velvet. I have seen 
her twice, in thepark.’^ She* lifted a hand to her face, and the 
newspaper slid from her lap to the floor. ‘‘ Wiio else has seen 
her?’^ she asked. 

At first no one answered. Quinlan was smiling slightly, 
and Fabrice looked a trifle bored. 

Not I,’’ said Sir Felix, seeing that the others were slow 
to speak. I used to read of her, now and then; but I was 
abroad when M’lle Novalis gave London such a stirring up.^^ 

I have seen her,’’ said La Belle Fabrice, carelessly. 

Here?” queried Madam Congreve, “ or in London?” 

Here, and in Paris.” 

But not in London ?” interpolated Quinlan. 

When M’lle Novalis was taking London by storm,” said 
Fabrice, turning her eyes full upon him, I was making my 
bow, very timidly, in the provinces.” 


78 


A LOST WITNESS. 


And so was I/’ broke in Madam Congreve. Not very 
timidly, perhaps ; not for the first time, by any means; but I 
was making nightly bows somewhere in the provinces, or in 
A iistralia, I really forget which. But certainly not in London.’’ 
She turned again to Quiidan. We have not heard from you. 
Of course, you have seen Mademoiselle the Beautiful ?” 

I have seen her — yes, both here and abroad.” 

Then you have seen her on the stage ?” Madam bent upon 
him an eager face, and drew her low chair nearer his. 

Yes.” 

You do not speak with enthusiasm. I want to hear your 
impressions.” 

Sir Felix, whose gaze was not long absent from the face of 
Fabrice, fancied that slie looked bored. He held in his hand 
the paper tossed him by Quinlan, and he now shook it open. 

Perhaps, I too may find an item of interest,” he said, 
lightly. 

Fabrice smiled, and stooped to take up the paper which had 
been dropped by Madam. 

And, perhaps, I may find another,” she said. Pray, go 
on, Mr. Quinlan ; while we look we’ll also listen.” And she 
began to turn the uncut sheet. 

M’lle Hortense Novalis is an actress of the intense school — 
if there is such a school,” began Quinlan, readily ; and her 
acting is certainly exquisite — of its kind.” 

As he spoke these last words, his eyes rested upon the face of 
Fabrice. 

Suddenly, a movement and a sharp exclamation from Sir 
Felix called their united attention to him, and Quinlan broke 
off his comments to ask ; 

^^What is it?” 


A BEAUTIFUL MYSTERY. 


79 


The young Englishman let the paper fall upon his knee. 

^ Oh, 1 say — ” he began, this is too bad ! I must have 
misunderstood the name. It cannot be the same.’^ 

He glanced again at the paper, and then turned to Quinlan, 
a look of actual distress in his eyes. 

On the evening after my arrival, I was taken to a party, 
a reception, by a friend — you know him, I think — young Tal- 
fourd ?” 

Frederick Quinlan bowed gravely. 

‘^Mr. Talfourd made me acquainted with a lady — a lovely 
girl, and I am sure that he called her Miss Paget, and that 
afterward, I heard some one speak of her by her full name. 
Miss Leah Paget.” 

Yes ?” Quinlan’s face now wore a look of annoyance. 

Does your paper contain any special mention of Miss Leah 
Paget ?’’ 

The eyes of the two met in a look that was almost a chal- 
lenge. Then Sir Felix turned, and placed the paper in the 
liand of Madam Congreve. 

I hoped that I was mistaken in the name,” he said, ad- 
dressing himself to the two ladies. Will you favor us again, 
Madam Congreve?” 

She took the printed sheet with an indulgent smile. We 
seem to find the evening papers interesting,” she said. And 
this is the ^QalV\ that, at any rate, is said to be reliable.” 
Slie glanced meaningly at the paper in the hands of Fabrice, 
and then began to read : 

A MISSING HEIRESS ! Worse and worse,” she com- 
mented. Strange Disappearance oj Miss Leah PagdJ^ She 
caught her breath, and looked up quickly. 

Leah Paget ! — Leah — ” It was Frederick Quinlan who 


80 


A LOST WITNESS. 


spoke thus. He started up and then sank back in his scat. 
His visible effort at coolness was not quite successful. ‘‘ There 
must be some mistake. Will you allow me — ’’ He held out 
his hand, and Madam, after favoring him with a surprised 
glance, took one more look — this time a very deliberate one — 
at the startling head-lines, and gave him the paper without 
a word. 

As he caught it and scanned the paragraph, made conspic- 
uous by its huge-lettered head-lines, she arose and began to 
gather up the other as yet unopened papers. 

We are getting too sensational,^^ she said, smiling down 
upon Sir Felix. No more news this evening ; I forbid it.’^ 

When he had read the last word of that fatal paragraph, 
Quinlan arose hastily, put the paper into the hands of Sir 
Felix, and exclaimed : 

Read that article ! In Heaven’s name, what can such a 
thing mean ! Is it some horrible blunder, or some — some 
dastardly practical joke ?” 

He was quivering with excitement ; he, the man known 
among men by the soubriquet of Cool Quinlan.” He seemed 
unable to comprehend, or to reason. 

Sir Felix favored him with a long slow look of surprised 
inquiry, and seeming to realize his mental condition, he read, 
slowly and aloud, the announcement of Leah Paget’s strange 
disappearance. Then he arose. He looked shocked, star- 
tled, sympathetic, but still puzzled. 

It’s very strange !” he said ; very strange. But I think 
this paper, the ^Call\ is named among your reliable organs. 
You knew the young lady, Mr. Quinlan ?” 

Knew her?” said Quinlan,' hoarsely. Knew her? Yes. 
She was a dear, an old friend. I must learn something more 





82 


A LOST WITNESS. 


about this.’’ He turned half round with a quick nervous move- 
ment. 

“ Will you allow me to go with you ?” asked Sir Felix, 
with ready sympathy. 

Thank you. I shall be glad. Ladies — ” 

As he turned toward them, a sharp cry broke from his lips. 

La Belle Fabrice was sitting in the big low chair beside the 
window; the newspaper had slipped from her fingers to the 
floor ; her right hand hung loosely at her side ; her left rested 
upon the cushioned chair-arm, and her head had fallen for- 
ward. She neither spoke nor stirred, and she did not lift her 
head when Madam Congreve called sharply • 

Fabrice! Fabrice !” 

Fabrice echoed Sir Felix Wyntoun, and he flung himself 
upon one knee beside her and lifted her head. 

La Belle Fabrice had fainted. 


CHAPTER X. 

COUSIN AS A DETECTIVE. 

Sir Felix Wyntoun and Frederick Quinlan went silently out 
from the apartments of La Belle Fabrice, having waited only 
to be informed, by her maid, that she was fast recovering un- 
der the care of Madam Congreve. But when they had reached 
the outer entrance they turned, and faced each other. 

I beg your pardon,” began Sir Felix, with some hesitation. 

I hardly know if it is right, or a — a breach of confidence in 


COUSIN AS A DETECTIVE. 


83 


a certain way, to mention it, but, as 1 have said, I was presented 
to this young lady — Miss Paget — by my friend Talfourd — we 
are quite old and familiar friends — and I supposed — not from 
anytliing he said, understand — but I have got hold of the idea 
somehow, tliat they — Talfourd and Miss Paget — were something 
more than friends. May I ask — ’’ 

He liad floundered among his words from the first, and his 
embarrassment seemed to increase as he neared the point of his 
sentence ; until, at last, he broke off abruptly, checked, in part, 
by the look upon Quinlan’s face. 

Sir Felix Wyntoun was a cultured young Englishman, and, 
in a certain sense, a man of the world ; but he was, as yet, too 
honest a young Englisliman to be, at all times and under all 
circumstances, absolutely at his ease. 

As for Frederick Quinlan, he was again externally calm. 
Father, he was again master of his features and bis voice, but 
not, perhaps, of his words. 

He favored Sir Felix with a cool stare. 

If you mean that Max Talfourd told you, either by plain 
words or innuendo, that Miss Paget is more to him than an or- 
dinary friend — ” 

But now Sir Felix was again his serene self. Quinlan’s 
look would have been enough without the words. 

I believe, I said there were no such words. At least, I 
meant that. And my friend Talfourd is not the man to make 
use of ‘ innuendo’ in speaking of a lady.” 

I was about to say,” resumed Quinlan, ‘^that ifsuch were 
the case you were better informed than I.” 

Oh, that !” Sir Felix looked at his watch. ^‘Have you any 
definite plan, Mr. Quinlan ? — anything wherein I can be of 
use to you ?” His tone was frigid. 


84 


A LOST WITNESS. 


I must own,’’ said Quinlan, with a short laugh, that in the 
first shock of seeing in the list of the ‘disappeared’ the name of a 
young lady whom I know and esteem, I felt like making the 
case a personal one ; I have sisters, you must know. But 
on second thought, Miss Paget, in any emergency, is not the 
person to need Quixotic championship from gentlemen friends, 
however willing they may be to mount spurs in her service or 
defense. For a moment, I believe, I must have had some vague 
notion of calling on the Chief of the Detective force, or chal- 
lenging the ^Call\ Upon second thought — I shall go to the club. 
One generally gets at the truth of things there ; and, unless you 
will join me at table, I don’t see that I can make use of 
your friendly services just now, much as I may feel inclined to 
monopolize — ” He broke off abruptly to hail a passing cab. 

“ Tiiank you,” replied Sir Felix. “ You are very good, but 
it is not quite late enough to dine, and I think I will make a 
call.” 

Pie went down the steps, followed by Quinlan, whose cab 
was drawing up to the pavement, and a second was approach- 
ing, also empty. Sir Felix beckoned, and the vehicle drew in 
close behind the other, beside which Quinlan stood, talking 
in a low tone to the driver. As Sir Felix entered his cab, 
Quinlan overheard his order to the driver. 

“ So !” he said, to himself, “ he’s going straight to Max 
Talfourd.” Then he entered his own cab, saying, after he was 
comfortably seated ; “ Drive slowly, and stop at the first news- 
stand.” 

When Polly Cousin turned away from the stately “ front” 
after his unsatisfactory call upon La Belle Fabrice, he was full 
of anger and chagrin. It was too late for office work or item 


COUSIN AS A DETfXTlVE. 


85 


hunting for the ^Call \ and too early for his next visit to the 
Chief of Police. 

He walked discontentedly southward for nearly a block, and 
then turned and paced slowly back to the great hotel. Sev- 
eral fine equipages were stationed before the splendid entrance. 
Perhaps, one of them had brought the young milord.’^ Fa- 
brice might be about to take the air in his society^ — ^who 
could tell? He wanted to see her face, and he didn’t care 
much if she saw his. He was feeling unreasonably vindic- 
ative. 

The splendid drive was full of life; carriages, landaus, — all 
sorts of vehicles of pleasure, — were passing and repassing. 
Hansoms, full and empty, dashed hither and thither. Cousin 
stopped, and watched them until, among the unoccupied han- 
soms, he saw a driver whom he knew. He signalled him, and 
said : 

James, I want you to drive me up and down within sight of 
this place for half an hour, more or less. Walk your horse, and 
keep him on the further side of the street.” 

The driver nodded knowingly, and began his slow peram- 
bulation. 

When Frederick Quinlan and Sir Felix Wyntoun came forth 
together. Cousin, who was then almost opposite them, leaned 
forward and said, James, make your turns short enough to 
keep that entrance in view.” 

He saw Quinlan signal the first cab, and Sir Felix beckon 
the other. He waited until Sir Felix had given his order, and 
while he hesitated, the first cab dashed away. 

Pll follow the last one,” he muttered. He^s going up 
town to dinner somewhere, most likely. Follow that cab,” 
nodding toward the one occupied by Quinlan, and be care- 


86 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Tiieu he settled back, and muttered to himself, Fred 
Quinlan^s always worth watching.^’ 

He saw Quinlan stop at a street-stand and buy two or three 
papers, then stop at a book-store, and come out with two or 
three more in his hand. 

Looks as if he was laying in a full line of evening papers,’^ 
muttered Cousin. And then he saw that Quinlan was paying 
his fare and dismissing his cab. 

Fare’s goiif,” said the driver, with a grin ; want me to 
foller him ?” 

Yes; follow him,” snapped Cousin. 

Quinlan sauntered on for two blocks, with the roll of papers 
stuck carelessly underneath his arm. Then he turned a cor- 
ner and began to walk briskly for two more blocks, and another 
turn brought him to a cab-stand. 

Here, again, he took a vehicle, and this time was driven 
briskly up town, but upon a diiferent street. 

It was a drive of more than half an hour, and Quinlan had 
doubtless found time to skim the cream from the evening pa- 
pers; for when he again dismissed his driver. Cousin passed 
near enough the empty cab to see the little heap of newspapers 
lying upon the seat. 

Quinlan had stopped before an apartment house, not so 
large as many of these palatial hostelries, but new and elegant. 
He went in at the general entrance, ascended the broad flight 
of stairs, traversed a square hall or court lighted from a glit- 
tering dome high above, and touched an electric bell beside a 
double-arched door, upon one panel of which was tacked, in an 
unpleasant foreign fashion, a small gilded card which bore the 
name. 

Mademoiselle Uortense Novalis, 


CAPTAIN CONNORS OPENS THE CASE. 


87 


CHAPTER XL 

CAPTAIN CONNORS OPENS THE CASE. 

At an early hour on the evening of the following day, Chief 
of Police Connors sat in his inner office, alone, and carefidly 
scanning what seemed to be a list of names in one note-book, 
alternating with sundry memoranda in another. 

After some minutes he apparently finished with the book of 
memoranda, and dropping it into an open drawer, which he 
closed and locked, he drew back in his chair and glanced over 
his desk, putting away one or two written documents, closing 
a ledger, casting a wary glance down at the floor and into the 
waste-basket, lest a dropped letter or a misplaced paper might 
fall into wrong hands. 

All being as it should in the sanctum of a careful and me- 
thodical Chief of Police, he rang a bell. 

Are they here he asked of a man who promptly ap- 
peared. 

All but Marcus.’’ 

^^Yery well.” The Chief took out his watch, glanced at 
it, and then, from force of habit, up at the clock opposite his 
desk. Send in Waters.” 

Waters came and seated himself in a chair drawn up before 
the desk of the Chief, and very near it. He was a small, spare 
man, grey-haired, and quiet of manner. He said nothing until 
the Chief addressed him, merely, looking up with the. calm air 


88 


A LOST WITNESS. 


of a man accustomed to the situation, and smiling slightly as 
their glances met. 

^‘Well, Waters?” 

I think IVe exhausted Grammercy Park, sir. The Car- 
ters are an old family there; wealthy, highly respected, etc. 
The solid sort. The family, that is, the old people, are not es- 
pecially intimate with the Pagets.” 

You’re sure of that ?” 

? Quite sure, sir. It’s very clear, though, that they, with 
the rest of social New York, hold the Pagets in high esteem.” 

Yes.” 

It’s the daughter, only daughter, Miss Gertrude or Gertie 
Carter, who is the friend of Miss Leah Paget. The young 
ladies were chums at school.” 

Yes, I see.” 

They have not exchanged many visits — the young ladies,! 
mean, because Miss Carter has been absent until quite recently, 
pursuing the study of music in Germany. I do not think they 
can have seen enough of each other since their school-days to 
become intimate up to the confiding stage.” 

And how far back do they date — these school-days ?” 

“ Considerably more than a year.” 

Oh, indeed !” 

The family have no more idea of the present whereabouts 
of Miss Paget than I have. They are thoroughly startled by 
the news. If Miss Paget had a secret of any sort, I don’t 
think she would have confided it to Miss Gertie Carter.” 

Why?” quickly interjected the Chief. 

Miss Paget,” Waters went on, imperturbably, is, I am 
told, a young lady of much intelligence, brilliant, talented, 
soundly sensible. Miss Carter is a pretty, good-natured. 


CAPTAIN CONNOKS OPENS THE CASE. 


89 


chattering little magpie ; utterly incapable of taking serious 
things seriously ; of giving good advice or taking it, or of keep- 
ing a secret.’^ 

Captain Connors leaned back in his chair and laughed. 

Yoifre a model hand with a verbal report, Waters. I feel 
quite well acquainted with Miss Carter. We will drop her 
and all the Carters, or rather, I will drop them, and leave them 
to you, uidess — is there anything else?’’ 

Nothing, except this : Miss Gertie is not merely the only 
daughter, she is the only child. They live alone — a family of 
three.” 

Ah, Waters ! you don’t forget. I wish some of my young- 
sters were like you. About the others, noW' — did you find 
time — ” 

Plenty. The Lathrops are soon disposed of. Miss Amy 
Lathrop is an orphan, an heiress of a modest sort — twenty 
thousand or so ; another school-friend of Miss Paget’s. The 
Lathrops, uncle and aunt, are summering at Point Comfort; 
they live somewhere over in Jersey, and know the Pagets only 
by reputation, or through their niece. Miss Amy Lathrop is 
a rather dignified young woman, with decided tastes and man- 
ners. The two young ladies. Miss Paget and Miss Lathrop, 
certainly hold each other in strong regard, but they are not, in 
any sense, intimates or confidantes. There is nothing to be 
gained by cultivating these people.” 

Captain Connors heaved a sigh, not deep but suggestive of 
a business-like disappointment. 

I feared or thought as much. Waters. Here are some 
other names,” holding a strip of paper toward him. Try if 
there’s anything for us in these tomorrow. Let the others 
drop. That’s all, Waters,” 


90 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Waters withdrew, and the Chief, after a few moments of 
grave thought, again touched his bell. 

Send in Nickerson.” 

Nickerson came with much breeze and bustle. He closed 
the door with noise and fussiness, looking back to see that it 
was closed ; sitting down and getting up again in the same 
instant ; fussing about himself as if in search of a concealed 
treasure, only to produce, at last, a brown silk handkerchief, with 
which he vigorously mopped his face. 

Evidently accustomed to the ways of the man, tlie Chief lay 
back ill his chair and waited until stillness had succeeded this 
preliminary confusion. Then he said, Well, Nickerson, are 
you ready now ?” 

Nickerson smiled as if sharing with the Chief the little 
grin, discernible behind that official’s shaggy mustache, at his 
own foibles. All ready,” he said. 

Well, go on, then — about the Pagets ?” 

There is nothing about the Pagets that isn’t perfectly fair 
and square and straight — absolutely nothing,” began Nicker- 
son, bluntly. Miss Leah Paget is an only child, petted, 
courted, flattered, beautiful, heiress to two fortunes. Father 
and mother both rich. She is in perfect physical health — if 
the word of the family physician is to be believed. Has 
never had a week’s illness, never had a sorrow nor a disap- 
pointment, never had an ungratified wish — ” 

Oh, come, Nickerson — remonstrated the Chief, smilingly, 
don’t go off in that way.” 

Nickerson’s eyes rested upon his superior with a shade of 
reproach. You know a man can talk best in his own fash- 
ion,” he said, and since we don’t write — ” 

Confound it !” broke in the Chief, if you wrote your r^- 


CAPTAIN aiNNORS OPENS THE CASE. 


91 


ports, IM linve to read a chapter out of a three- volume novel 
every day. But go on, old fellow ; you and I are too good 
friends to argue over whims. Go on, and take your own 
way. If you have formed an opinion, lei’s have it.” 

Captain Connors and John Nickerson had indeed seen serv- 
ice together ; first, as common policemen, and later, upon a 
select staff for special duties and dangers. The Chief was too 
genial to preserve, even with his younger and less well-known 
subordinates, that dignity usually found in the bearing of an 
official of his high degree, — vastly helpful and becoming when 
it is the gift of Mother Nature, eminently absurd and lacking 
of its proper impressiveness, when, as often happens, it is 
donned and d()ffed like a garment of state. 

Nickerson drew his chair a little nearer his Chief, and smiled, 
evidently appeased. 

Well,” he said, leaning back and inserting two thumbs 
into two waistcoat pockets — a favorite position,— well, I have 
formed an opinion, and I don’t believe I arn going to find 
cause to change it right away.” 

‘‘ Oh !” The Chief settled back in his chair, folded his arms 
across his chest, and looked very alert. ‘^Now, then ?” 

First; every moment spent in interviewing, shadowing or 
burrowing into the history or character of the Paget servants, 
is so much time thrown away.” 

Yes, I begin to think so.” 

So, too, is every moment given to the past or present of the 
Pagets. I mean, of course, Paget and his wife.” 

Urn— m !” 

^^Oh, you’ll find that I’m right ! I’m almost prepared to 
say as much of the missing young lady.” 

Almost ?” 


92 


A LOST WITNESS. 


^'Yes; I said almost; not quite, however.’’ 

Very wise in you, too.” 

“ Well, I don’t know. I may as well say that, already, I 
incline strongly to the belief that the young lady is not absent 
by her own wish or will.” 

That’s making a long jump, Nickerson. Whatdoes it lead 
up to, first und most naturally, in your mind ?”- 
, It leads, first, of course to all manner of conjectures ; ab- 
duction, for instance ; sudden insanity, suicide, elopement, a 
possible family quarrel, some secret trouble, or sorrow ; a pos- 
sible accident that might have rendered her insensible — ” 

Pshaw !” 

You asked what were my first thoughts concerning 
this disappearance, didn’t yon? Well, I’m giving you some 
of them. Then, there’s abduction followed by murder ; there’s 
abduction to rob ; there’s revenge, there’s jealousy.” 

Connors groaned aloud. 

Then, there’s such a thing as injuring the child to hurt the 
parents. There might be a rejected lover with a bad temper 
and an appetite for wine ; or a jealous and, perhaps, jilted rival. 
Don’t you remember the story of the rival singers of Italy ? 
The one carried off the other, and spoiled her face scientifically 
with hot irons.” 

“ Nickerson, if it wasn’t you, I’d shut down on this.” 

^‘Well, you asked a question. I’m answering to the 
best of my ability. Tliere’s another thing,” — here Nick- 
erson grinned behind his hand, — there’s the madhouse busi- 
ness.” 

Again Connors groaned ; and ns if in answer to the sound, 
some one tapped lightly at the office-door. 

Open it, Nickerson,” said the Chief. 


CAPTAIN CONNORS OPENS THE CASE. 


98 


Nickerson complied, and Polly Cousin stood revealed in the 
doorway. 

Come in, Cousin,’’ called Connors. And the reporter, 
nodding familiarly to Nickerson, entered the room and closed 
the door. 

Lock it,” said the Chief. 

Nickerson turned the key, and Cousin pushed a bolt into 
place. 

“ You’i'e just the man for us, Polly,” began the Chief. “ Sit 
down, both of you, I want you to hear Nickerson propound 
theories.” 

Theories ?” Cousin drew a chair so close that he touched 
Nickerson’s elbow. Easy work, that.” 

Yes ; and Nickerson’s good at it.” 

It’s about the only easy work we have,” Nickerson retorted, 
and it is usually the way we begin, I guess.” 

I guess so, too,” said Cousin. Is it the Paget business ?” 
There was neither interest nor curiosity in the question. 
Cousin spoke and looked like a man whose mind is already 
too full to admit of another idea. 

Yes,” replied the Chief, it is the Paget business. And 
I may as well say, right here, that it does not progress. I’ve 
liad a dozen men out, and they’ve come back empty-handed.” 

Cousin brushed a hand across his brow, as if to exorcise all 
outside thoughts, and said, in the same indifferently quiet 
tone : 

You mean, that our first idea has been carried out, I sup- 
pose ?” 

Yes, Miss Paget’s parents, friends, neighbors and serv- 
ants have all passed under the microscope — to no pur- 
pose.” 


94 


A LOST WITNESS. 

And among tliem all/’ said Cousin, ^^could they not furnish 
you with a single peg big enough to hang one of Nickerson’s 
theories upon ?” 

Or one of yours?” suggested Nickerson. 

My good fellow,” retorted Cousin, I haven’t such a thing 
about me.” 

If you had,” broke in the Chief, it would be thankfully 
received — by me, at least.” 

Yes ; and by me,” agreed Nickerson, even if it’s a very 
small one.” 

Well, I have an idea,” said Cousin. Of course, if you 
have learned absolutely nothing, you haven’t found out who are 
Miss Paget’s enemies ?” 

Her enemies?” exclaimed Nickerson. 

Her enemies ?” echoed the Chief. 

“ My good souls,” began Cousin, as if remonstrating, don’t 
you know that there are only two kinds of women who don’t 
make enemies ?” 

‘^Umph !” from the Chief. Silence and a long stare from 
Nickerson. 

The first are in the insane asylum,” went on Cousin, 
and the others are in their graves.” 

Oh !” cried Connors, “ this grows worse and worse !” 
Cousin went on, heedless of tlie interruption : 

To fancy that a woman as young, as fair, as fortunate as 
Miss Leah Paget could live in this world and make no en- 
emies, is as absurd as to say that envy and jealousy and avarice 
and all uncharitableness have gone out of the world. Con- 
nors, if I were yon, I would trouble myself less with looking 
after her friends, and try to locate her enemies.” 

For a long time there was silence, except for the sound of 


CAPTAIN CONNORS OPENS THE CASE. 


95 


Cousin’s cane tapping lightly and regularly against the toe of 
his boot. Then Nickerson turned/and put out his hand. 

Shake, boy !” he said. You’ll lead us all, yet. Gad ! you 
did have an idea !” 

Well,” said the reporter, carelessly, ^‘you people had bet- 
ter utilize it then, and be ready for the next.” 

Have you got another ?” 

Almost.” 

We will utilize this, Polly,” said Connors. He hesitated 
a moment, glancing askance at Nickerson, and then, seeming 
to think of something worth remembering, drew a blank card 
toward him and wrote a few words hastily : then he said. 

Your other idea, Cousin, — can’t we have that, too?” 

Yes ; it is this — and a good job it will be for Nickerson 
here ; Find out what the friends and enemies of Miss Paget 
were doing during the night of her disappearance.” 

Good !” exclaimed the Chief, with new animation ; and 
he began to cover another card with his peculiar scrawl. ‘‘Now 
the wheels are beginning to move.” 

A knock at the office-door caused him to pause, and then he 
signalled Nickerson to admit the applicant. 

It was one of his men, who silently presented a card to the 
Chief. Connors caught it up and glanced at the name thereon, 
and at the words pencilled below — 

M. B. TALFOURD. 

Will Captain Connors spare half an hour to one personally 
interested in the case of Miss Paget f 

The Chief re-read the name and the words below it, and 
then passed the card to the reporter. 


96 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Do you know him asked Cousin, after glancing at the 
card. 

Slightly. Pass it on to Nickerson.” 

Nickerson took the card and perused it in his turn. 

I don’t know him,” he said, as he returned it to the Chief. 

Tell the gentleman I will see him in five minutes,” said 
the Chief to the waiting messenger. And when the door had 
again closed, he turned to Nickerson. 

I am going to let you work up Cousin’s last idea, Nicker- 
son, and it won’t be a small job, I’m thinking. Take your 
own way, and as many men as you need ; only be lively.” 

Nickerson arose with alacrity. 

I’ll take half an hour to think things over,” he said, and 
then I may want to see you again.” 

Very good,” replied the Chief; and Nickerson went 
briskly out. 

Then Cousin arose, and stood a moment silently leaning 
against the desk before Connors. 

‘^You’ll wait?” said the latter, in a confidential tone 

I’ll come back,” Cousin replied. 

^^Do you know Mr. Talfourd, Cousin ?” 

‘^Not personally. He’s a square man, though.” 

Yes, I am sure of that.” 

Cousin took up his hat, went toward the door, and then 
turned back. 

Don’t forget,” he said, slowly, that this man is the father 
of Max Talfourd, and that Max Talfourd is the Jianc^ of 
Leah Paget.” 


MR. TALFOURD TAKES HIS STAND. 


97 


CHAPTER XII. 

MR. TALFOURD TAKES HIS STAND. 

To a man in the position of Captain Connors, all men of 
note in this city, whetlier noted for good or evil, must ne- 
cessarily become known to him, either personally or by reputa- 
tion ; the word reputation meaning, in the case of a thorough- 
going Chief of Police, report, well-founded, and in many 
cases thoroughly investigated. But the father of Max Talfourd 
was known to Captain Connors even better than many of the other 

notables’’. Indeed, it would have been strange if a man at 
once so bluff and so genial, so large-hearted and free-handed, 
so shrewd yet companionable, and so wealthy, were not 
well known, well loved, and well hated. So Mr. Talfourd 
and the Chief, who came down from his desk platform, met 
as pleasant acquaintances meet; then sitting opposite and 
very near each other, they settled themselves for their half- 
hour talk. 

‘‘ After receiving that Quixotic visit from my son, I do not 
sup})Ose you are surprised to see me. Captain?” began Mr. 
Talfourd. 

No,” admitted the Chief ; and I am glad to see you.” 

“ Thank you, Connors. Of course, you can see how it is 
that I am interested in this affair. Are you willing — is there 
any reason why you should not talk with me freely about it ? 
You see, I come straight to the point.” 

There is no reason wliy I slioidd not talk with you about 


98 


A LOST WITNESS. 


it ; certainly not/’ said the Chief, slowly. “ In fact, T am glad 
of this opportunity. May 1 ask if you have formed an o])in- 
ion upon this subject ?” 

No. My mind is a blank.” 

The Chief looked grave, and, for a moment, both were si- 
lent. 

Then, I suppose, your sympathies are with the Pagets ?” 

My sympathies are with Leah Paget, which is only another 
way of saying that they are with my son.” 

Again, for a moment, the Chief meditated. 

Would you mind telling me how this came to your knowl- 
edge ? — the news of Miss Paget’s disappearance — and how 
much you know of the affair — of the Paget family, and of your 
son’s engagement ?” 

“ No, I don’t mind in the least. But I’ll reverse the order 
of your questions. I know nothing of my son’s engagement, 
except that it exists. My wife had more than half suspected it 
for some time, and had hinted her suspicions to me. For my- 
self, I gave the matter little thought. I have always believed 
my boy to have a tolerably level head. Yesterday, he came to 
my wife and me, and told us, first, that Leah was missing, and 
then, that she was his promised wife. The boy is sadly cut 
up.” 

Yes, I should think so. However, he carried himself 
pretty well during his call here.” 

Thanks,” said Mr. Talfourd, smiling. I’m rather 
proud of my boy, and it tickles my vanity, of course, to hear 
him praised. That’s human nature, I suppose. Perhaps, be- 
fore I answer your next question, I’d better tell you what 
happened yesterday when Max came home with his bad news. 
You must know, that while we were discussing the matter, the 


MR. TALFOURD TAKES HIS STAND. 


99 


gil-Ps mother ^ appeared upon the scene/ as they say in the 
play reviews/^ 

What, Mrs. Paget ! If yoiPll give me an account of that 
—your soiPs story and Mrs. PagePs — give it in detail — Pll 
be obliged to you. Never mind the time ; one can’t tell a 
story in a minute.” 

I’m more than willing to tell it,” responded Mr. Tal- 
fourd. 

And he did. When he came to the point in his nar- 
rative where Mrs, Paget surprised them all by presenting 
herself, he hesitated a moment. 

Now that I have come to Mrs. Paget,” he said, I feel 
almost as if I were violating a confidence ; and yet, I’m not. 
Mrs. Paget knows that I meant to pay you this visit.” 

Yes,” assented the Chief, rather tamely. He was too 
thoroughly an officer of the law, to fully appreciate these 
scruples. 

To preface this part of my story, let me say that Mr. Pa- 
get and myself are not on very friendly terms. The fault, I 
suppose, is mutual. The difference was caused by our getting 
in each other’s way in a business transaction. Each wanted 
the same bit of property. I’ve almost forgotten the details. I 
don’t' suppose that matters to you, though ?” 

I don’t see how it can, at present.” 

Nor I, unless for want of a clue to work upon, you choose 
to turn eyes of suspicion upon me.” 

Upon you ?” the Chief exclaimed. 

Yes ; you might choose to fancy that for revenge upon 
Paget, I had stolen his daughter, you know.” 

Mr. Talfourd spoke smilingly, and the Chief laughed out- 
right. 


100 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Since you have suggested it, perhaps, you had better tell 
us who came out ahead in that little business transaction ?” 

If you are always so thorough. Captain, you would lose 
many a pretty-looking clue. I believe I was the head man 
that time. It was a principle with me always to win if I entered 
into any transaction. I did not care so much for the profit of the 
little speculation. Indeed, once the property was in my hands, 
I was prepared to be magnanimous, and offered to sell out to 
Paget at cost. But his Dutch was up. He wouldn’t hear of it, of 
course. Seriously, I never felt a shade of rancor after my first 
blaze cooled, /have no animosity where Paget is concerned. 

Natural enough, that ! you were the winning horse.” 

I was about to say,” Mr. Talfourd resumed, “ that some- 
how we have met very seldom of late — Paget and I. The la- 
dies used to exchange visits — I mean, my wife and Mrs. Paget, — 
Mrs. Paget, nowand then, but not often, with her daughter, — 
each ignoring the differences of their lords, as good women will. 
But lately that has fallen off somewhat. There has been no 
abatement of kindly feeling, however ; I am quite sure of that. 
I think it was, most likely, that certain odd sort of womanly 
or motherly delicacy and pride which has kept them apart. 
They saw, or guessed, how the young people were drawing 
near each other. However this may have been, they are cer- 
tainly on most cordial terras now.” 

Yes ; misfortunes sometimes soften the heart. And wo- 
men — well, I suppose a good woman is always made better, if 
not happier, by the exercise of fortitude.” 

I believe so. Well, the question now is, will misfortune 
soften the heart of Abner Paget ? I’ll be in a position to en- 
lighten you soon, for I am going to see him at once!” 

I hope you will come to me immediately after.” 


MR. TALFOURD TAKES HIS STAND. 


101 


I will. And now I will go back to my original subject. 
Mrs. Paget, it appears, was wholly in her daughter’s confi- 
dence, and she knew that Leah was engaged to my son. Of 
course, it was a private engagement ; it could not be otherwise.” 

He paused^ and the Chief said, earnestly, I wish you would 
tell me all you can about this engagement.” 

“ I can tell very little. My son is progressive enough in 
some respects, but he is as ])unctilious in others as his old- 
fashioned father would have him. Feeling assured of the 
young lady’s regard, he asked her father for permission to pay 
his addresses.” 

And it was given ?” 

And it was denied him. His suit was roundly rejected, in 
the good old Capulet fashion. Mr. Paget had other views for 
his daughter. He forbade them so much as remaining friends.” 

And they disobeyed, in the good old fashion ?” 

Not at first. Max, of course, being once committed, was 
committed for all time. He held himself bound, but refused 
to so hold her, hoping that her father’s unreasoning displeas- 
ure might pass away. I think the young fellow felt that bet- 
ter treatment was due him. But Mr. Paget had another card 
to play. Shortly after he forbade Leah to Max, he bade her 
consent to receive the addresses of the other fellow.” 

And the other fellow — who is he?” 

Again I feel like a social sinner. I believe this is a 
breach of confidence. But no ; it isn’t. Mrs. Paget told 
me to use the information she furnished as I tliought fit. The 
name of the young man who has found favor in Mr. Paget’s 
eyes, is Frederick Quinlan.’’ 

What ! The son of E. G. ?” 

“ The same.” 


102 


A LOST witness. 


The Chief of Police pursed up liis lips, as if about to whis- 
tle, thought better, and coughed instead. 

What do you know of young Quinlan he asked, after 
a moment’s thought. 

<< Very little, except that he is the only son of E. G. Quin- 
lan. There are also daughters — two, at least, for they are al- 
ready in society.” 

Well, what was the result of the Quinlan wooing?” 

Just what might have been expected from a s])irited girl 
like Leah Paget. She utterly refused to receive Quinlan, and 
boldly declared for my son.” He paused, and seemed as if con- 
sidering something. 

Excuse me a moment,” said the Chief, rising. I want 
to send a message.” 

Mr. Talfourd nodded, and the Chief went out and across the 
hall to a small office where an old man was writing briskly at 
a high desk, and two or three younger ones were seated at a 
long narrow table, also engaged in writing. 

Has Cousin been in again?” the Chief asked of the man 
at the desk. 

‘^Not yet. Captain,” replied the man, without stopping his 
pen, or looking up. ^ 

Then I’ll write a line for him.” 

He took a card and pencilled a few words upon it, standing 
beside the desk with one foot upon the edge of a chair, and the 
card resting upon his knee. 

There,” he said, placing the card at the old man’s elbow; 

that’s for Cousin if he comes within twenty minutes. If he 
doesnH come within that time, see to it yourself, Pa]>py. Only, 
if you put it into other hands than Cousin’s, cut off the last 
four words at the bottom of the card. Tell Cousin that I’ll 
see him later.” 


NICKERSON THEORIES. 


103 


The old man nodded, and Captain Connors went back to 
his private office, to Mr. Talfourd. 

When the door had closed behind the Chief, the old manat 
the desk put his pen behind his ear, turned over the card which 
lay with its blank side uppermost, and read it, the last line, 
of four words, first : 

In the Paget caseP 

Then the preceding lines : 

‘^Frederick Quinlan, son of E. G. Q., look him up — his 
character, habits, haunts, companions ; his amusements, and 
standing, socially, and at the clubs. Put a shadow on him, 
and, if possible, get his photograph.” 


CHAPTEK XIII. 

Nickerson’s theories. 

When Captain Connors and Mr. Talfourd parted, at the door 
of the Chief’s office, it was with mutual confidence, and a very 
clear understanding. 

A moment later, Nickerson again appeared before his Chief. 

Well, Nickerson,” said the good-natured personage, have 
you considered to your heart’s content ?” 

Nickerson shut the door and came close to the desk. 

I thought that you might have a new idea to start me with, 
when you had talked with Talfourd,” he said, his eyes search- 
ing the Chief’s face, ‘‘ Talfourd ought to know something.” 


104 


A LOST WITNESS. 


He does know a little sometliing. Sit down a moment ; 
ni condense the thing for you. Eh ! Cousin, come in.” 

Polly Cousin had opened the door noiselessly, and now stood 
upon the threshold, with the Chiefs card between his fingers. 

Come ii^ Cousin. You may as well hear it too.” 

Cousin approached the desk and stood beside Nickerson. 

Pve just got this,” he said, tapping the card. I want to 
say a word about it before we go further.” 

Wait !” broke in the Chief, “ until T tell you both the 
little I have learned from Mr. Talfourd.” 

He ran very briefly over the main points of the interview, 
and when he had finished, all three were in possession of 
everything that was known or guessed at by Mrs. Paget and the 
Talfourds. 

‘‘ IPs a slim starter,” commented Nickerson. 

IPs a long degree better than nothing,” said Polly Cousin. 

Well,” said Nickerson, turning to go, Pm glad I waited. 
1 think now Pll give my earliest attention to Mr. Frederick 
Quinlan.” 

Without a word. Cousin laid the card he had been trifling 
with on the desk before the Chief. 

Connors,” he said, quietly, do you want my co-operation 
in this case? One moment, Nickerson — ” 

^^Of course, I want it. Cousin,” said the Chief. ‘MYait, 
Nick.” 

Then,” said Cousin, I think that you would do well to 
organize your forces. But first, give that card to Nickerson ; 
iPs directly in his line.” 

Connors looked doubtful. 

Pll tell you why I came in just now,” went on Cousin. 

I know a little of Fred Quinlan; in fact, we are acquaint- 


NICKERSOK^S THEORIES. 


105 


tlilces. 1 vvuiiLed lo give you the benefit of my knowledge.^^ 

One question/^ said the Chief. Do you want Nickerson to 
take this off your hands 

You mean the Quinlan business ? I would prefer it * 
yes.’^ 

^^Then give us what you know about Quinlan, and let him 
be off.’^ 

Frederick Quinlan, in society, is one man, and Fred Quin- 
lan, at his clubs and in sporting circles, is another,’’ said Cou^ 
sin, ci’isply. “ He’s suave and agreeable in society, and quiet 
and orderly everywhere. He l)elongs to one or two, or maybe 
more, small social clubs. He drives good horses, and keeps a 
yacht. All tliis the world knows. But all the world does not 
know that he belongs to the Daybreak Club, and plays there 
heavily.” 

He couldn’t get in there if he didn’t,” said the Chief. The 
thing’s no more nor less than a select gambling-honse.” 

“ Correct, Captain. Quinlan is also in at the dirty turf busi- 
ness pretty often. He owns a jockey on the quiet, and he 
owns a racer or two in the same way. He bets largely behind 
some of the regular turfmen. And that is not all. He 
doesn’t depend wholly upon upper-tendom for his society. He’s 
anything but fastidious sometimes, and I guest that yacht of 
his could tell some queer tales. Is that enough for a ^ starter,’ 
Nickerson ?” 

“ Quite,” said the detective. 

‘‘ Then take this ; I leave Quinlan to you.” Cousin pushed 
the card toward him, and as he took it he turned to Connors. 

Well, T am off.” And Nickerson set his cap upon his 
head and left them, with a nod to ihe Chief and a wink to 
Cousin. 


106 


A LOST WITNESS. 


When he had gone, the Chief seated himself before Cousin, 
who remained standing as at first. 

Now, Polly,^^ he said, “ what is it ?’^ 

Ihn quite willing to take up Quinlan later,” Cousin said, 
with a preoccupied air. But just now he’s straight in 
Nickerson’s line. Besides, I want to go in the opposite direc- 
tion.” 

Oh, that’s it, eh? Which way ?” 

I want to go again to Pagets.” 

“ Why?” 

Because, if Mr. Talfourd goes there, and, as you have 
said, they are not on cordial terms, I'd give something to ar- 
rive just after their meeting. Mr. Paget will be in just the 
mood for such a talk as I wish to have with him.” 

Will he? Now, if I know Mr. Paget, he will be in a 
very ugly state of mind by the time he is done with Mr. Tal- 
fourd, or Talfourd done with him.” 

Exactly ; and that is what I want. The only time to 
hope for much conversation from that overbearing old aristo- 
crat is when he is goaded to the point where a little added pres- 
sure will loosen his tongue in spite of his dignity. And now 
tell me — you began but did not get far — what are Nickerson’s 
theories ?” 

Oh, don’t you like your own better ?” laughed the Chief. 

Connors, I don’t believe you appreciate the value of that 
man. He’s the best reasoner I know ; and there’s not his 
equal for patient, thorough, burrowing work.” 

That’s true. Put Nickerson on the scent, and he’s the right 
man in the right place. To dig up the past, neatly and tho- 
roughly, the man has not an equal. But for looking ahead — 
well, you know Nickerson.” 


SIR FELIX DEFINES HIS POSITION. 


107 


I know Nickerson ; and I know that his reasoning, 
abstract'or otherwise, is better than yonrs or mine. Nickerson 
can see much farther tlian he can go. Now, I’ll wager that 
he has favored you with half a dozen plausible causes for this 
disappearance.” 

He has that !” 

Cousin took out his note-book. 

Run them over,” he said. I’m willing to utilize Nicker- 
son’s peculiar talent.” 


CHAPTER XIY. 

SIR FELIX DEFINES HIS POSITION. 

As Sir Felix Wyntoun alighted fi om his cab at the street en- 
trance before the home of his friend Talfourd, he saw Max him- 
self emerge from a side door which opened upon a porte caoliere, 
where stood a waiting carriage. Max was followed by a lady 
of dignified presence, dressed in garments of sombre richness, 
to whom he gave his hand, assisting her to her place in the 
carriage. 

As the vehicle rolled away, Max saw Sir Felix, and has- 
tened to meet him. 

I am glad to see you, Wyntoun,” Max said, as he took his 
hand, although I am in rather gloomy spiilts. I’d like to 
receive you in my home, for the first time, under happier 
auspices, but — ” 


108 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Don’t mention it, I beg,” broke in the young English- 
man, earnestly. That I haven’t been able to respond to your 
invitations before, has been my misfortune. If my visit now 
is not untimely, intrusive, I am very glad.” 

Max Talfourd turned as they were walking toward the 
house, and scanned the face of his friend. Their eyes met 
squarely ; in one was honest questioning, in the other, honest 
sympathy. No word was spoken until they had reached the 
entrance, and then Max said, I am going to take you up to 
my snuggery.” He led the way across the wide hall, up the 
stairs with its moss-like carpet, across another hall, and so into 
a room — Max Talfourd’s own. 

When they were within, and the door closed. Max again ex- 
tended his hand. 

“ You are a friend in need, Wyntoun,” he said, pressing the 
hand of Sir Felix between both his own. “ Sit down ascom- 
fortably as you can — and tell me, how much will you let me 
impose upon your good nature ?” 

“I cannot,” answered Sir Felix, sinking into a comfortable 
seat. But if you will begin, and go ‘ right ahead,’ as I’ve 
heard some of you Yankees say, I will tell you when to stop.” 
Again their eyes met. Perhaps,” he added, I ought to say 
that I came just now because I fancied, I feared, that you 
might be in trouble.” 

I am !” broke in Max, letting his eyes droop, and not quite 
able to keep his voice steady. I am in deep trouble.” 

I was about to say,” went on the young nobleman, with- 
out withdrawing his gaze, that I came to offer you all my 
sympathy, and any service I can render.” 

Max had j list seated himself near his friend, but arose and be- 
gan pacing the floor, keeping his face half averted as bespoke. 


SIR FELIX DEFIXES HIS POSITION. 


109 


It seeniji like a nightmare T he said, “ it has all come upon 
me so suddenly. Up to the present hour I have hardly had 
Mime to think, to face it all squarely. A short time ago her 
mother came, — Mrs. Paget, — and we have been trying to talk 
about it — she, my parents, and I. It was she who left us as 
you came. I think I must have been, at that moment, upon 
the very point of breaking down.’^ He stopped in his nerv- 
ous march. I have not asked you how much you know,^^ 
he continued, in a more subdued tone, nor how you lea’*ned 
it.” 

I saw it in an evening paper,” Sir Felix explained. And 
tlien, to give his friend time to recover himself, he went on : 

I was calling upon La Belle Fabrice. Young Quinlan, whom 
you know, I believe — ” Talfourd nodded — young Quin- 
lan was there, and we were glancing over the items of interest 
in the papers.” 

‘‘Oh!” Talfourd came back and slowly resumed his seat. 
“ What did Frederick Quinlan say ?” 

“ I can hardly tell. He did not say much, but his agitation 
surprised me. Are you two great friends ?” 

Talfourd uttered a short mirthless laugh. 

“As gi-eat friends as an accepted lover who -is rejected by 
the stern parent, and a rejected lover who is accepted by the 
stern parent, are likely to be.” 

“ And is that the state of affairs ?” Sir Felix looked as if new 
light were dawning upon him. 

“ That is the state of affairs. I can say this now, for we 
have decided that it is best that the engagement be made pub- 
lic. You must understand that it was not announced, because 
Mr. Paget did not favor my suit; he preferred Quinlan. But 
Mrs. Paget has been, all along, her daughter’s confidante. She 


no 


A LOST WITNESS. 


sent for me as soon as Leah’s absence was discovered. She 
thinks it right that tlie truth concerning our engagement be 
now made known.” 

It will certainly be best, for the young lady at least. I’ll 
wager that was your idea, Talfourd.” 

“ You couldn’t suppose that Leah’s mother would suggest 
such a thing ?” 

I don’t suppose it for an instant. And I do not sup- 
pose that many in your position would suggest it for them- 
selves — Mr. Quinlan, for instance.” 

Max Talfourd frowned. “ I don’t quite see your drift, 
Wyntoun. What would have done under similar cir- 
cumstances ?” 

You must remember that I do not know the circum- 
stances, even as you know them. As to what I would have 
done, I would have done, I hope, just as you have ; provided, 
of course, I had full faith in the lady.” 

I have full faith in Leah Paget. Let us understand each 
other. My friends must see her from my point of view. No 
one can help me who does not look upon my promised wife as 
above suspicion.” 

Sir Felix smiled indulgently. I am quite willing to 
adopt your point of view, my dear fellow. I assure you that 
mine is far from lucid. I have seen Miss Paget for just one 
evening, and danced with her twice. I am not an adept at 
character reading ; I do not pretend to any of that sort of 
wisdom. But if Miss Paget is not a pure, true, and generous 
woman, then I will live a single life forever. I never would 
dare to doubt such clear frank eyes, and a voice that might be- 
long to an angel of truth. I hope that is strong enough ? 
It is not trumped up for the occasion.” 


sm FELIX DEFINES HIS POSITION. 


Ill 


Thank you !’’ Max Talfourd put out his hand, but some- 
thing lik<e a sob arose in his throat and stopped his speech. 

“ It is not a time to intrude my affairs upon you/^ went on 
Sir Felix, but I am going to be quite frank with you, about 
myself. Can you guess why I came here, to America, at this 
time 

I could not, at first,’^ said Max ; but tonight — not long 
ago — He broke off, and, rising, went across the room and 
took a paper from an open escritoire. That explained it,’^ 
he said, pointing to a marked paragraph. 

Again it was the '^Eveiiing CallJ^ and the paragraph was the 
one concerning La Belle Fabrice and her titled follower from 
over the seas. 

Sir Felix scanned the paragraph. 

‘^Confound their American impudence!’’ he exclaimed, 
flushing hotly. Then he read it again, and this time he looked 
up, flushing still, but smiling too. But it is true,” he said, 
boyishly. 

In spite of his trouble. Max Talfourd laughed. 

I have nothing to say,” continued Sir Felix, except what 
you have just said for yourself. She is an actress. I do not even 
know her real name, and she does not encourage me. But I 
am ready to swear by her truth and goodness. I love her, and 
if she is not Lady Wyntoun some day, it will be because she 
refuses to look favorably upon the particular branch of hum- 
bug that I represent.” 

‘‘1 don’t think you could set yourself up for a fair speci- 
men of the nobility and gentry, Wyntoun. But I can’t refuse 
to say ^God speed’ to your wooing. I am inclined to think that 
you are right, too. La Belle Fabrice — ” he broke off abruptly. 

Do you know her ?” asked Wyntoun. 


112 


A LOST WITNESS. 


— 1 stip[)Ose every one knows profcssioiiul people, in one 
way or another/^ He spoke in a strangely-constrained voice, 
and generous Sir Felix, fancying that he was still striving for 
self-possession, went on, more to give his friend time than to 
free his own mind. 

Of course, you would hear and read much of her. She was 
the fashion in London, as she will be here, once she has made 
her debut But I was more fortunate, or unfortunate ; time 
will tell which. I met her in town often, during the season, 
and later we spent a fortnight together at a house-party in the 
country. Oh, she bears every-day inspection wondrously. 
Most actresses are at their best behind the footlights ; she is 
at her best everywhere.’’ 

Of course,” assented Talfourd, trying to smile. And 
have you — ” He paused, and looked his question. 

“ Have I declared myself? No. She won’t give me 
an opportunity. But, Talfourd, my dear fellow, let’s talk 
about your affairs. Are you going to take me into your confi- 
dence ?” 

I am omy too glad to do so.” He drew his chair closer 
to that occupied by his friend, and told him the story of the 
day, — of Mrs. Paget’s summons, and his visit to Leah’s home ; 
of his visit to the Chief of Police, and the Editor of the 
of his talk with his parents, and lastly, of the visit of Mrs. 
Paget. 

All has been done that could be done, it seems,” he con- 
cluded. ^^The resources of the city police and detective force 
will be exhausted, if need be, in the search. Paget will leave 
no stone unturned, of course. And yet, I do not feel satisfied. 
I feel as if there were something, perhaps under our very eyes, 
that would give us the keynote to this mystery — a motive of 


SIR FELIX DEFINES HlS POSITION. 


113 


some sort, on tlie part of some one, now nnsiisp. ctM ; and I feel 
as if this were being overlooked.^’ 

Sir Felix was silent a moment, seeming to muse. 

I think I understand,” he said. “ If one could only have 
his family Paul Pry, his private detective ! Now, why may 
it not be true*, that, say in a case like this, a gentleman, a man 
of the world, knowing its ways, its ins and outs, as only such 
a one can, is not just the man for the office? Because your 
crack detective, perhaps, can run down bis assassin or his bur- 
glar nine times in ten, does it follow that he is the man to un- 
ravel a mystery of this sort ? There should be detectives and 
detectives ; don’t you think so?” 

I suppose there are. But those of the sort we want, are 
few.” 

“ Naturally. Do you know your Chief of Police ?” 

Connors ? I know that he is an honest man, and second 
to none in the line of work that is most often brought before 
him. We cannot demand everything of our police and detect- 
ives. They cannot be expected to be prepared for remote 
possibilities. I am not disparaging Connors and his men. 
But I will say this, Wyntoun : If Leah Paget is not restored, 
or her whereabouts accounted for, within the next twenty-four 
hours, I shall look for nothing further from the police. 
The cunning that can baffle them for so long, will be more 
than their match in the end.” 

And then — ?” 

And then — what ? Advise me, Wyntonn.” 

The face of the young Englishman brightened. Max had 
again arisen, and was pacing the floor. Sir Felix arose also and 
slipped his hand within his friend’s arm. 

First,” he said, tell me just how you stand, relatively to 


114 


A LOST WITNESS. 


this search. Are you going to he known as one of the instiga- 
tors?^^ , 

Not at present ; not unless I see some new clue to follow, 
some fresh avenue. We have agreed that the fact of my en- 
gagement is to be made known, in the quietest way possible. 
I do not mean to send it to the newspapers, understand. Of 
course, they will get it. But not from me. You can help me 
there, Wyntoun.” 

I ? How 

By saying, at the chibs, or when any one speaks of this, 
that you know of our engagement. It is delicate work, but 
you can do it gracefully, if you don’t mind.” 

Of course I don’t mind. Do not let ns have any more of 
that. I will do what you wish. When yon are convinced 
that everything has been done, and if the result is still failure, 
have you any plans ?” 

Max shook his head. 

I would give all I possess to know, at this moment, where 
to find an untrammelled, independent, vvel 1-in formed, gentle- 
manly private detective ; one who is master of his own time, 
and could furnish both brains and working power.” 

And how would you use him ?” 

I would retain him privately. I would let Paget and 
the police go on as they would, and I would give my man 
cai'te blanche.’^ 

The face of Sir Felix brightened. He gripped his friend’s 
arm tightly between both his hands. 

^‘My dear fellow,” he said, I know the very man you 
want !” 

Talfourd turned upon him, his face flushed with excitement 
“ Who is he ?” he cried ; where is he ?” 


COMPLICATIONS. 


Jl5 

He was in London a month ago ; he may be at the North 
Pole now. He is an English gentleman, and a genuine one, 
cnltured, refined, and clever. He is a detective, too, — a pri- 
vate one, of course, — working only upon such cases as he finds 
interest in. Money cannot hire iiiin to work upon a force or 
to do common work. He never touches robberies, forgeries— < 
anything that simply means money, and does no harm to life, 
or character. I believe he is the best detective in the world.” 

And his name?” 

His name ? I dare say you liave heard it. It is Francis 
FerrarsF 


CHAPTER XV. 

COMPLICATIONS. 

If the father of Max Talfourd had not been a semi-invalid, 
unusually harrassed by the events of the preceding forty-eight 
hours, suffering from frequent twinges of gouty jiain, and hun- 
gry for his dinner, it might, perhaps, have been otherwise. 

Or, if Abner Paget hud not been left too long to himself, 
fasting, and thinking alone, gnawed by his pride, pricked a 
little, as even a very well-behaved father may reasonably be 
sometimes, by Ids conscience, fearful for the fate of his mis.'ing 
daughter, and wroth because he must needs be questioned and 
commanded like any common mortal, by Chief of Police Con- 
nors and his minions, — it might not have happened. 


116 


A LOST WITNESS. 


As it was, with the best of intentions upon both sides, Tal- 
fonrd senior and Paget quarrelled, each man being sure 
that his point of view was the only reasonable one. 

They met in Abner Paget's severely-splendid library, where 
all the books looked so painfully new, and saluted like two 
courteous hostile gentlemen of the old school about to fight a 
duel ; and, indeed, that is pretty much what they did. 

It is a sad, absurd, and tedious thing — a polite and courtly 
quarrel between two stately, well-intentioned, opinionated 
grey-beards ; and its end was confusion. 

It began with the two duellists sitting directly opposite each 
other in two huge leather-covered chairs, in which each could 
be at ease and still maintain a becoming dignity. And it 
ended with the two standing erect, facing each other squarely, 
and not an arm's length between them. When it was over, 
Mr. Talfourd walked to the door as prim and erect as if he 
were not wincing because of the twinges that were writhing 
their way through his right limb, turned there, and said : 

“ I am sorry for the spectacle of mistaken, yes, wicked pride, 
that you have shown this day. It makes it impossible that I 
should lift a hand to help you, were it in my power. It com- 
pels me to bid my son withdraw entirely from his present po- 
sition as openly-announced ^ance ofagirl whois mysteriously 
missing. It forces me to close my doors to you and yours. 
You have insulted me, sir, and only your age and the fact that 
you are a man in affliction, saves you from chastisement. One 
thing more ; you have given me a new idea, a new hint, 
which I shall not be slow to follow up. I leave you, sir, to 
visit the Chief of Police." 

James," said Mr. Paget to the servant, who had just an- 
swered his ring, show that gentleman the door." 


COMPLICATIONS. 


117 


When Mr. Talfourd came out from the inhospitable house 
of Mr. Paget, it was growing Jate, but he told his coachman 
to drive him once more to the office of the Chief of Police. 

W^ell, said that individual, when Talfourd was again 
seated in one of his comfortable office-chairs, have you made 
that call 

Paget will doubtless inform you that I have, when you see 
him again,’’ said Talfourd, with a short laugh. ‘‘ It is my first 
call upon Abner Paget in — I don’t know how many years,” 
he went on, in answer to an inquiring look from Captain Con- 
nors. ‘^And I cannot fancy myself repeating it ; at least, not 
for some time. You are a pretty shrewd fellow. Captain, but 
I will wager you cannot guess what that old man charged me 
with.” 

Carrying off the young lady ?” queried Connors, with a 
grin at his own facetiousness. 

Yes, sir .'” 

You don’t mean it !” 

But I do ! I told him that my son, thinking it might be 
best, and wishing that he might have the right it would give 
liim to assist in the search for Miss Paget, would make it known 
at once that she was betrothed to him. Paget flew into a rage, 
declared that it .should not be done, and ended by vowing that 
he believed the whole thing a scheme gotten up by us — my son, 
myself, and his daughter !” 

By Jove !” ejaculated Captain Connors, and for some time 
he said nothing more. What did you say to all this ?” he 
asked, finally. 

Well, I am afraid that I spoke rather hotly, but I guess I 
did not say any more than I meant. I told him that after such 
an outrage I could do but one thing — that I must forbid my son 


118 


A LOST WITNESS. 


to put liimself forward as Miss Paget’s fiance^ or to mix him- 
self up ill tlie business in any way.”' 

And you meant that?” 

“ Yes ; I meant it, and I mean it now. My son is of age, to 
be sure, and I shall not go into the casting off, disinheriting 
business, or anything of that sort. But if he persists, it will 
be against my expressed wishes, and without my aid or consent. 
I think, too, that he must see the necessity for withdrawing al- 
together, from this moment ; otherwise, old Paget will pro- 
nounce the whole thing a farce.” 

Yes ; it is a most extraordinary state of affairs,” assented 
Captain Connors, thoughtfully. 

Now, I think I will go home and inform my wife and 
Max of the result of my visit to that unreasoning old idiot ; 
that is,” with a smile, if you do not share Paget’s suspicions, 
and so put me under arrest.” 

Not tonight,” laughed Connors. 

Well,” taking up his hat, and rising, you had better have 
us watched. Is there anything else. Captain? If not, I will 
be off before Paget arrives. He is sure to come, to tell you of 
his brilliant new idea.” 

There was little else ; and Mr. Talfourd went home to cat^ 
echise his son. 

Max was alone m his room, and he received his father so 
eagerly that the elder Talfourd felt his courage deserting 
him. But he got his story out at last, and waited for its 
effect. 

My poor Leah !” said Max. If I can only find her 
alive — Ah, she shall not go back to him 

And then the elder Talfourd astonished liis, son by announc- 
ing his determination. 


COMl>LICATIONg. 


119 


“ You will have to drop it all, Max he continued. 
“ There is no other alternative.^^ 

He waited for his answer, but none came. His son sat op- 
: posite him with set lips, looking him squarely in the face. 

^ Well said Mr. Talfourd, at last, are you going to say 
I anything?’^ 

Not on this subject,” said Max, quietly. It would be 
useless. The fact of my engagement has been already an- 
nounced ; and if it were not, it should be — all the sooner for 
this. 

Max !” 

“ We will not discuss the matter, father. We have never 
yet differed in anything of importance. This is very impor- 
tant to me. You promised, yes, proffered your help. Let that 
go ; I release you from that, from any promise you like. Be 
neutral — be even opposed to me, if you will, but do not lay 
any commands upon me. I shall have to disobey them. And 
now, will you excuse me ? I have an engagement with 
Wyntoun.” 

Captain Connors did not expect a visit from Mr. Paget. 
But he did expect a full account of the meeting between 
Messrs. Talfourd and Paget, through the medium of Polly 
Cousin ; a repetition of the story told by Talfourd, from the 
Paget point of view. 

It was Cousin’s plan to arrive at Mr. Paget’s house directly 
after the departure of Mr. Talfourd, then to return to the office 
and report to Captain Connors. But he did not come. And, 
after an hour of waiting, the Chief began to yawn. 

‘^Cousin was never so late before,” he murmured, sleepily. 

Another half hour and then the monotony of waiting was 


1^0 


A LOST WITNESS. 


broken by tlie arrival of a note. It was from Abner Paget^ 
and ran as follows : 

To Captain Connors, Chief of Police, City. Sir : — I have, this even- 
ing, received a visit from one of your agents, Mr, Cousin. I hope that 
the questions you have thought it necessary to ask, througli him, have 
been answered satisfactorily. 

I have some ground for thinking that the clue to my daughter’s 
strange disappearance may not be so difficult to find. I have learned 
that she had engaged herself, against my expressed commands, to a 
young man in whom, I have reason to believe, there is much that is rep^ 
rehensible. The young man’s father has cherished for years an enmity 
against me, and has encouraged his son in the pursuit of my daughtei’i 
I will not go further into this painful subject. Were it not for your 
assurance that my confidence would be respected, I could not write as 
above. I have not mentioned this suspicion to Mr. Cousin. The name 
of the young man who has clandestinely won my daughter’s affections, 
is Maxwell Talfourd. A word to the wise, etc. 

Yours, 

Abner Paget. 

‘^Upon my word !” ejaculated the Chief, when he had per- 
used this missive, that’s an astonishing thing ! I’ll — o'ive 
this letter to — Nickerson.” 

He waited half an hour longer and then prepared to leave 
for the night, somewhat dissatisfied at Cousin’s non-appear- 
ance. * 

“ I can’t think what has overtaken Cousin,” he muttered. 

It’s the first time he ever failed me.” 


SARA. 


121 


CHAPTER XVI. 

SARA. 

Polly Cousin had meant to arrive at the Paget mansion be- 
fore Mr. Talfourd had taken his departure. But the unexpected 
difference between Mr. Talfourd and Mr. Paget had hastened 
the going of the former, who was already out of the house be- 
fore Cousin appeared before Mr. Paget, whom he found pacing 
the floor in a manner betokening perturbation of mind. 

Perhaps, his recent encounter with Mr. Talfourd, a foenian 
worthy of hissteel, had served as a sop to his wounded vanity, or 
possibly he had begun to take a less personal and more pathetic 
view of the case ; to think less of tlie Paget pride and more of 
the Paget loss ; less of Abner and more of Leah Paget. Be this 
as it may, it is certain that Polly Cousin met with an almost 
gracious welcome when he appeared for the second time before 
Abner Paget. 

The greetings were barely over, and Cousin was inwardly 
congratulating himself upon the improvement in the bearing 
of his host, when that gentleman touched a bell, and said to 
the servant, who appeared with much promptness, Ask Mrs. 
Paget if she is able to see — ah — Mr. Cousin ; or, say a mes- 
senger from Captain Connors.’’ Then turning toward Cousin : 

I have decided,” he said, in fact, it is the advice of her physi- 
cian, that I will make Mrs. Paget one at our counsels. To 
know all that has been and is being done, is, we think, the 


122 


A LOST WITNESS. 


best relief, yes, the only relief, we can as yet offer her. Is 
there any objection to this on your part 
“ None whatever/^ Cousin answered, composedly. I think 
it an excellent idea.’’ 

They waited in silence for a moment, when the door 
slowly opened, stopped half-way, with the hand of the footman 
.visible upon the knob, and a slow, soft, and pathetically sweet 
voice spoke outside : 

Is Mr. Paget in his library, Henry ? May I see him, 
just for a moment?” 

Before Henry could frame a reply, Abner Paget was at the 
door. 

^^Sara — Mrs. Yolney!” he exc.aimed, with more eagerness 
than might have been expected from him. You certainly 
may come in. Have you seen Mrs. Paget?” 

He swung the door open, and then Polly Cousin was con- 
scious of blushing violently, as, glancing up, he encountered 
the gaze of a pair of eyes — whether brown or blue or grey he 
could not have told for days after — deep, luminous eyes ; the 
strangest eyes, the^^lest eyes, tlie loveliest eyes, he thought, 
his own had ever^sTed upon. 

These marvellous eyes were set in a pale exquisite face ; a 
face all lily, with no hint of rose except in the thin delicately- 
curved lips ; a Madonna face, so he named it to himself, framed 
in a mass of rippling pale-gold hair. 

What a vision it was ! — the tall, lithe, rounded figure in the 
flowing, fleecy, black garments ; the grace of each move- 
ment ! And then the voice : soft, slow, sweetly pathetic ; and 
over all, through all, the sympathy, the pity, the pathos, that 
strange serenity never ruffled, the low cadences never raised or 
roughened I < 


SARA. 


123 


As they stood face to face in the center of the stately li- 
brary, the stiff old aristocrat unbending even toward her, the 
beautiful woman with her hand in his, Cousin, for one dazed 
moment, saw clearly what was meant by the hitherto mean- 
ingless phrases, old family^^ and ^^blue blood.’’ And he 
did mental homage. 

I went to Mrs. Paget’s door,” the gentle voice began. 

She is too ill, the poor mother ; she cannot come down Mr. 
Paget, is there any news ?” ^ 

No conventional words of sympathy ; only the little white 
hand resting in his ; only the sweet indescribable lowering of 
her always soft tones, as she spoke the last words ; only the sad 
questioning eyes upraised to his face. 

Abner Paget gently released the dainty hand, and drew for- 
ward a chair, in which he placed her with grave courtesy. 

No,” he said, there is no news.” 

Ah,” she breathed, softly, “ it is too sorrowful ! I have just 
heard of it. I came home today.” Slie clasped her hands in 
her lap and looked up into his face, and then slowly turned 
her mild gaze upon Cousin. 

Her host noted the glance. 

We have begun a thorough search,” he said. “ The de- 
tectives are at work, and this — ” He hesitated, evidently at 
a loss as to how he should characterize Cousin, who sat before 
them both like a graven image, his eyes riveted upon the hem 
of the lady’s black robe. 

Instantly she came to the rescue. 

This young man is a detective ?” 

Paget nodded. 

Ah !’' She bowed to Cousin and let her eyes rest upon his 
face, with a glance of kindly interest. “ Then I am in the 


124 


A LOST WITNESS. 


way, perhaps.^’ She made a slight movement, but did not rise. 
Instead, she turned her eyes once more upon Mi*. Paget. Is 
there anything I may do 

Mr. Patjet shook his head. 

She seemed to be thinking. Then she arose and came close 
to him. If there is anything that I may know — she said 
plaintively. I am very anxious, very unhappy, about this.” 
She put out her hand again. 

“ Wait,” Mr. Paget said, and turned toward Cousin. I was 
saying, Mr. Cousin, that I wished my wife to be present at our 
interviews. And this lady, Mrs. Volney, is an intimate family 
friend. Is there any reason why she should not remain ?” 

Percy Cousin had arisen when the name of the lady was 
spoken, and she had recognized the movement by a second in- 
clination of her dainty head, while her lovely pathetic eyes 
rested gravely upon his face. She did not withdraw her gaze 
when Mr. Paget paused, nor while Cousin made answer: 

That rests with you, Mr. Paget. Upon my part I see no 
objection. If the lady is a friend of your daughter’s, she may, 
perhaps, aid us by some suggestion ” 

Oh,” sighed Sara Volney, if I could !” 

She arose and seated herself in a low ottoman midway 
oetween the places occupied by the two men. She listened very 
quietly, sitting as noiseless as the statue behind her, while 
Cousin, in brief detail, ran over the history of the movements 
of the officers during the past twenty-four hours. He was 
conscious, while he addressed himself to Mr. Paget, that the 
lady’s eyes were riveted upon his face. Involuntarily, as he 
ceased speaking, he turned, and met her glance. 

There was a moment of silence. A long sigh from Mrs. 
Volney broke the stillness. 


SARA. 


125 


Then nothing lias been accomplished/’ she asked, sadly, 
with so many keen hunters, so many able detectives and po- 
lice ? And such a highly esteemed Chief at the head of the 
search I How does it look to you, sir ? Is it not disheartening ?” 

“ It would be,” he replied, if the search had started thirty- 
six days ago, instead of about that many hours.” 

Oh !” she sighed again, and turned her pathetic eyes upon 
Mr. Paget. 

We think now,” went on Cousin, feeling a little inward 
surprise at his recovered self-possession, having exhausted 
all the ordinary methods of inquiry, that it is time to or- 
ganize a systematic search in new lines of inquiry. I have here, 
Mr. Paget, a list of questions, to which I hope you will give 
the most direct answers possible. Captain Connors feels that 
the case is a serious one, and there will be no time lost, and no 
ground overlooked by us, if we have from you all the informa- 
tion you can give, or put us in the way of obtaining from 
other sources.” 

Eh !” ejaculated Mr. Paget, wrinkling his brows. Well, 
young man, go on ; I’ll try to follow.” 

Cousin turned to Mrs. Volney. She was leaning slightly 
forward ; her clear pale face, rendered almost statue-like by its 
franiing of dead-black crape, was turned fully upon him. She 
had drawn .off her gloves, and her small ringless hands were 
clasped together in her lap, holding between them a fold of her 
sable drapery. As he looked she did not withdraw her gaze, 
but let her eyes meet his and rest upon them, full of wistfnl- 
ness. 

Again the silence was unbroken, while Cousin drew from 
his pocket a small memorandum-book and a pencil. He was 
about to make use of Nickerson’s theories.” 


126 


A LOST WITNESS. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

BEWITCHED. 

Polly Cousin was iiotliing if lie was not direct. He could be 
discreetly silent, and subtly talkative, each as needful. After 
running his eyes over certain closely-pencilled lines in his mem- 
orandum-book, he looked up and said : 

Mr. Paget, if my questions are painfully personal, please 
remember that they are quite necessary. Is there, oi; has there 
ever been, either in your family or your wife’s, insanity ?” 

He was looking at Mr. Paget, but he was almost certain that 
the white hands lying upon the sable folds of Mrs. Volney’s 
gown, moved slightly, as if their owner had started suddenly, 
and then as suddenly brought herself back to stillness. 

“ Insanity !” cried Abner Paget. Good heavens, no !” 

Then you think there is no possibility that Miss Paget, in 
a, fit of temporary aberration, may have wandered from her 
home ?” 

Gracious 'Powers !” cried Paget. No ! I say. Leah 
Paget is no more likely to have become insane than I am.” 

“Very strange things happen,” said Cousin, making astraight 
mark across certain words in his note-book. “There have 
been instances when evenly-balanced persons have suddenlv lost 
their reason. A fall, a blow on the head, may have been the 
cause — ” He paused ; Mrs. Volney was looking at him ear- 
nestly. 

“ Do you mean,” she began, in her low even tones, “ that she 


BEWITCHED. 


127 


may have been hurt in some way, and been taken, insensible, 
perhaps, in charge by some one, or — 

She paused. Abner Paget had arisen suddenly and was nerv- 
ously pacing the room. 

Cousin’s eyes followed him as he answered her unfinished 
question. 

If such a thing has happened, which is barely possible, we 
shall soon know it. That sort of thing can be easily ferreted 
out. The best work of our city detectives is directly in that 
line.” 

He glanced again at his note-book. 

“Pardon me, Mr. Paget, these questions are necessary. 
Has there been, of late, or at any time, any difference or mis- 
understanding between Miss Paget and — any member of your 
family ?” 

Mr. Paget stopped his walk, and turned to face the ques- 
tioner. 

“ There are but three members of this family,” he said, curtly. 
“ Between my wife and my daughter, perfect confidence has al- 
ways existed. Between myself and my daughter there was a 
difference — ” In the momentary pause, the eyes of Mrs. Vol- 
ney were turned full upon him — “ but it was not sufficient to 
cause her to leave my home — her home.” 

Again he paused. Mrs. Voluey was still intently regard- 
ing him. But the interviewer remained silent, and his eyes 
were upon his note-book. 

“ Our difference was not an uncommon one between parent 
and child,” Mr. Paget resumed. “ It was concerning her choice 
of a young man of whom, as a suitor for her hand, I could 
not approve.” His eyes met those of Mrs. Volney’s as if this 
was a subject she quite understood. 


128 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Yes,” said Cousin, I am already aware of that. Have you 
no suspicion that she may have left her home because of this ?” 

Mr. Paget waved a hand toward the lady. 

Women understand women,” he said, stiffly, and Mrs. Yol- 
ney knows my daughter well. Let us have her opinion.” 

Leah never left her home, and her mother, for such a 
cause,” the lady said, slowly but with decision. 

Again Polly Cousin fell back upon his note-book and medi- 
tation, and his reflections were something like this : 

Here is a man who is reserved to his own hurt. I may 
as well hope to draw information from one of his bronze busts 
over the doorway. And here, as a friend of the family and 
of tlie missing girl, is the fairest, the stillest, the most self-con- 
tained woman I ever met. Each is a slight damper, perhaps, 
upon the communicativeness of the other. This will be a 
fruitless interview unless I can separate them.” 

He slowly fingered his note-book, and, turning to Mr. Paget, 
began a list of questions concerning his lost daughter. What 
were her tastes, in music, for instance, and was she fond of read- 
ing? What were her liabits ? Hid she walk much, and if so, 
where to ? Was she at all venturesome ? Hid she ever wander 
out of the fashionable thoroughfares? Hid she ofien visit the 
Parks? Hid she drive and ride frequently ? Was she fond of 
yachting? Was she connected with any charitable societies? 
Was she apt to notice, upon the street, children, beggars, etc. ? 
Was she enthusiastic, was she courageous, was she approach- 
able ?” These questions, and many others, he asked and the 
two answered. Then, suddenly, he shut up his note-book and 
arose. 

^^Mr. Paget,” he said, you must understand that, where 
there is absolutely no clue to work from^ we must first inform 


BEWITCHED. 


129 


ourselves as fully as possible of personal characteristics and 
personal matters, and then begin to construct theories. You 
are sure that your daughter had no sufficient motive for aban- 
doning her home, and we are already prepared to believe, for 
many reasons, that she did not abandon her home voluntarily. 
Now, there are two or three possibilities.' I will merely name 
them to you, and you may think them ovei-. Sometimes a 
man like yourself, of property and extended influence, makes 
an enemy. In the career of a successful business man this is 
j)retty sure to happen. Have you ever made such an enemy? 
Is there anywhere, to your knowledge, any one, man or woman, 
who has breathed a menace against you or yours ? — years ago, 
perhaps. This is not a time to hesitate from motives of pride 
or from false delicacy. If you have ever had an enemy, or if 
your wife or daughter has any reason to fear one, you will do 
well to make it known to us — to Captain Connors. Your 
daughter is beautiful, they say; may she not have made, in 
some discarded suitor or unsuccessful rival, a foe to be feared? 
I do not wish an answer to these questions now. But I ask 
you to think, and as soon as possible talk with your wife. Do 
not keep back the slightest hint, the vaguest suspicion. The 
very thing that you might consider hardly worth a thought, 
may be just the clue we need.’’ 

Cousin’s speech, before it had reached its end, had produced 
two effects, each a surprise to him. It had caused Abner Pa- 
get to drop into the nearest chair, staring at the brusque 
speaker, with all the pride and haughtiness gone out of his face. 
It had brought Mrs. Volney to her feet, and half-way across 
the room, where she stood with her hands locked together, 
her lips parted, and her eyes fixed eagerly u])on the young 
man’s face. 


130 


A LOST WITNESS. 


For a moment all were silent, moveless. Then Mrs. Vol- 
ney came swiftly to tlie side of Mr. Paget, and resting one 
hand upon his shoulder, said : 

Mr. Paget, I beseech you, listen to what this young man 
has said ! Heed him ! He knows of what he speaks. He 
can help us, I am sure V' Then without turning or even glanc- 
ing at Cousin, she consulted a tiny watch. I must go, but 
I shall soon come again. Good-bye, Mr. Paget.” 

She extended her hand ; he took it listlessly and without 
rising. As he released it, she turned toward Cousin, bowed, 
and then, as if by some sudden inspiration, swept up to him 
and put out her hand. 

We shall expect much from you,” she said, with her eyes 
upon his face. Good-day, sir.” 

And as Percy Cousin stood reddening and dazed, she bowed 
again and swept to the door, which Abner Paget, suddenly re- 
covering himself, hastened to open for her exit. 

When Mr. Puget closed the door and came back to his place. 
Cousin had put away his note-book and was standing hat in 
hand, as if waiting for his host to speak. But Mj’. Paget was 
silent. 

‘^If you have nothing to suggest — ” began Cousin. 

Nothing !” broke in Mr. Paget, sharply ; nothing what- 
ever.” 

“ Then I will go.” Cousin walked toward the door, but 
paused upon the threshold. I shall not be likely to interview 
you again, Mr. Paget,” he said, quietly. You will commu- 
nicate, when you have anything to say, with Captain Con- 
nors.” 

He bowed formally, and Mr. Paget responded stiffly, with- 
out quitting his place. 


A WHONG AND A MYSTERY. 


131 


When Cousin reached the street, a handsome close coupe was 
turning away from the tarriage-steps, and he raised his hat as 
he saw the fair face of Mrs. Volney looking out. 

Instantly, her hand was lifted in a gesture meant to detain 
him ; and the coupe turned and was again drawn up to the 
pavement. 

Will you take a seat with me, sir said the soft voice of 
the lady as she leaned out toward liim. I am going down 
town.’^ And then, while Cousin seemed to hesitate, she ad- 
ded, almost in a whisper, Oblige me, please. I want to talk 
with you.” 

Those splendid eyes were rested upon his burning face. 
There was a note of appeal in her voice. Dimly, dizzily con- 
scious of his own awkwardness, and with all the blood in his 
body, as it seemed to him, surging toward his face, Cousin en- 
tered the coupe. 


CHAPTER XVTIl. 

A WRONG AND A MYSTERY AND A MAN SHE LOVES.” 

When Sir Felix Wyntoun opened his eyes, on the morning 
after his intervievv with Max Talfourd, and found himself 
waking to a medley of remembrances not exactly pleasant, his 
first thought was of La Belle Fabrice. 

How would the morning find her? Would she see him to- 
day ? And would the hour, the very earliest, most unconven- 
tional hour for calling at lier hotel, ever come? 


132 


A LOST WITNESS. 


At least, he might see Madam Congreve, for next to Fabrice 
his thoughts went most naturally to that amiable woman, who 
was, in some sort, a connecting link between himself and the 
object of his admiration. 

But at breakfast a note from Max Talfourd was put into his 
hand. He opened it eagerly, anxious at once for his friend 
and glad of a diversion. It was as follows : 

My Dear Wyntoun 

I am under a new cloud, but one which I hope will soon turn its 
bright side toward me. 1 may not see you today ; Jn truth, I think I 
would better uot. I trust all to you as we planned it yesterday. And 
one thing more : Will you kindly wire to your friend Ferrars, or in such 
way as you think best find out by cable if Ferrars is in London, and at 
liberty ? I leave it to you to say as much or as little as you think fit. 
Let me hear the result at ouce. 1 remain at home to-day. 

Yours, 

Talfourd. 

P. S. Will you breakfast with me here tomorrow ? 

Max. 


It was this note tiiat sent Sir Felix forth that mornino: with a 
new animation, and a business-like air that was quite “ Ameri- 
can.’^ Soon this message was speeding London ward, to one Lord 
Louis Barham, George Street, Hanover Square : 


Is Ferrars in London and disengaged? 
long? 


What address, and for how 
Wyntoun. 


To this message the answer came promptly : 

Ferrars in Germany. Can’t be got under seven days. At your serv- 
ice. 

Baruam. 

This message, with an explanatory note, Sir Felix sent af 



Mr, Paget, I beseech you, listen to what this young man 

HAS said!” Page 130. 


133 



134 


A LOST WITNESS. 


once to Max Talfourd ; and then turned ids face toward the 
quietly-splendid apartments of La Belle Fabrice. 

Madam Congreve alone came forward to receive him. There 
was a new look of anxiety upon her face, as she put out her 
hand, and he fancied, as he took it, a look of relief also. 

Their greeting was a silent one, and when he I’eleased her 
hand, Madam Congreve sank again into the seat from which 
she had risen to receive him. Sir Felix glanced all about the 
room, as if to make surer the disappointment plainly visible in 
his face. 

Sit down,” said Madam Congreve, at last. I am glad 
that you have come ; glad of this opportunity. Fabrice has 
gone out.” 

^^Gone out ?” he echoed. Then she is — ” 

Oh, she is well; quite well. But — ” She laughed nerv- 
ously, “ I really do not know how to say it. Somehow, I 
feel as if our positions, yours and mine, have been reversed. I 
am coming to you for counsel, and advice, perhaps.” 

To me !” The anxiety deepened in his face. What is 

it?” 

1 donh know what it is. I only wish I did. It s about Fa- 
brice, of course.” 

What of her ?” 

Listen. I am going to wash my hands of all this I must ; 
it’s too hard a position — I can’t fill it. Sir Felix, I am afraid 
I must advise you to give it up !” Again she laughed nerv- 
ously. I do not suppose you will listen to me now, or rather, 
that you will not heed me any more than you did before. But 
you shall not blame me for anything that may go ill in the fu- 
ture. I am going to tell you just what has happened since — 
since you left us yesterday — you and Mr. Quinlan. By the 


A WRONG AND A MYSTERY. 


135 


way, Mr. Quinlan left, his compliments and that basket of roses 
at the door, half an hour ago.’^ 

She indicated, by a gesture, a gilded basket of Marechal 
Niels upon a little table near him ; but he did not turn his 
head. 

You were going to tell me — ’’ 

Yes ; and I’ll get it over. Fabrice came out of her faint 
almost immediately, and locked herself in her room straight- 
way. Something in that newspaper troubled her greatly ; it 
must have been so. She took it with her, when she left the 
room, and she did not appear again last evening. Several 
times her maid went to her door, but was denied admittance, 
and we could not help from knowing that she was in great 
trouble. We could hear her sobs ; she was moaning and 
walking the floor. Finally, she admitted me. It was as if 
she could not bear to be alone any longer. But she would not 
talk to me, and I could not comfort her. I had never seen the 
child in any but her merriest moods. Her distress went to my 
heart, but I was powerless to help her. Finally, when it was 
almost morning, she sobbed herself to sleep upon my shoul- 
der.” 

She paused, and a flush came into her cheeks. 

All I know of her ti’ouble, is the little I could guess from 
her disjointed murmurings in that sleep.” Again she paused, 
her embarrassment evidently increasing. I have always 
said, and always believed,” she went on, hesitatinglv, that 
Fabrice was heart-free — that there w^as no one — ” She checked 
herself as Sir Felix suddenly arose and walked to a window 
that overlooked the street. 

Go on !” he said, hoarsely, as he stood with his b:ick tow- 
ard hei\ 


136 


A LOST WITNESS. 


But — but, there is some one, somewhere, wliom she loves 
— whom she longs for. It is not a pn rent, for Fabrice is an 
orphan and brotherless. It may not be a lover. I caif t re- 
peat her words,^’ she floundered on. But they were strange 
— too incoherent to comprehend. But there is a wrong and a 
mystery — and a man she cares for — somewhere.^^ 

She paused ; there was a slight movement of the muscular 
shoulders, but otherwise nO sign from Sir Felix that he heard. 

“ This morning/’ Madam resumed, she was awake be- 
fore me, and at her desk. She wrote half a dozen letters, and 
then destroyed then]. But at last one was written that seemed 
satisfactory. When this was done and folded, she rang for 
some envelopes from the hotel office, and put her letter 
into one of these. She was quite calm this morning, but very 
silent and sad. When her letter was finished, she prepared to go 
out, and by the time she was ready she was looking quite 
eager, and somewhat excited — and so preoccupied ! There, 
Sir Felix, I have told you all — all but this : I must tell Fa- 
brice that I have told you all these things. You see my posi- 
tion else ?” 

Sir Felix came slowly away from the window and resumed 
his seat near her. 

Tell her,” he said. It is best.” 

For a moment both were silent. Madam plucking listlessly 
at the tassel fringe that depended from the arms of the chair 
she occupied ; Sir Felix sitting with his head bent upon his 
hand, his fair face in the shadow. At last he lifted liis head, 
and there was a world of anxiety in his honest English eyes. 

You have been very good,” he said. I had no right to 
ask so much of you. Somehow — ” and his boyish smile broke 
through the gloom of his countenance, in spite of my liberal 


A WRONG AND A MYSTERY. 


137 


tendencies, don’t you know, I feel awfully glad that you are an 
Englishwoman.’’ 

‘‘ And an actress !” There was a shade of bitterness in her 
tone. Do you include that fact in your list of things to be 
thankful for?” 

Come now, Madam Congreve, that’s too bad of you. 
Were you not an Englishwoman, a gentlewoman, first — before 
you were an actress ?” 

1 am an Englishwoman and a gentlewoman still, I trust,” 
she said. And ‘as an Englishwoman, I have asked mvself 
over and over, how all this is to end — your attachment for Fa- 
brice. Suppose she returns your regard? I know no moreof 
Fabrice than I see from day to day, but I know that she is 
})roud with the best, the only pride that is safe for a woman 
— the pride born of self-respect. And there is your mother, 
Sir Felix, and yonr sisters — ” 

He threw back his head impatiently. 

I wish I had only my mother and my sisters to dread. 
Why don’t you mention my father ?” 

Because I happen to have heard that the Marquis of Bol- 
ton is as radical as his son.” 

Well, my mother is one of those good and wise women 
who believe in letting a man follow his chosen pathway. Mind 
yon, she is as thoroughly an aristocrat as can be, but she would 
be shocked at the mere thought of questioning the movements 
of the Marquis of Bolton, even when she could not admire and 
sanction them. She would acquiesce, because Lord Bolton is 
— Lord Bolton.” 

1 am English enough to comprehend. And Lady Bolton 
is certainly an exceptionally desirable mother.” 

Undoubtedly. Well, my sisters, you will remember, have 


138 


A LOST WITNESS. 


bad the advautage of being reared by such a niotlier. They 
may stick, just at first ; I won’t say it’s impossible. But in tlie 
end, Lady Louise, that’s my eldest, and she’s a bit poetical, 
will ask, ‘ Is the pretty and fond of books ?’ And Lady Flo 
will merely want to know it she’s jolly, and not afraid to take 
a seven-barred gate. Lady Flo’s no end of a good girl, and 
pretty, too. But she’s just a bit horsey and counts a hunt 
ahead of a ball.” 

Madam Conorreve smiled and nodded. 

I know the kind,” she said. And when it’s enthusiasm, 
and not affectation, they’re the cream of English girls.” 

When I want to reprove my younger sister,” he said, with 
a slow, half smile, I tell her she’s too out-spoken for her own 
good, and for a girl. Pardon me. Madam, but may I know 
when she will be back?” 

I suppose you mean Fabrice ?” 

Of course.” 

“ She did not tell me her intentions.” 

And she went alone ?’ 

Yes.’ 

Sir Felix arose and took up his hat. 

• We were to drive today, later. Did she speak of this?” 

Not since yesterday.” 

Then I shall call for you as was arranged.” 

He turned, and she arose and walked beside him to the 
door. There he hesitated. 

Tell me,” he said ; advise me. I want to speak to her. 
I want to understand — at least, I want her to understand me. 
Will it be too soon ? Is it the wrong time ? Ought I to 
wait ?” 

Madam Congreve sighed. 


IN TROUBLE. IN DANGER.^^ 


139 


<( 

I am truly your friend, Sir Felix,'' lie said ; yours and 
hers. But I cannot advise you further. I wish you all good. 
I will aid you when I can. But I am sick of all this mystery. 
I dare not put my hand upon a thing so sacred with my eyes 
bandaged. You must rely upon yourself. Your own tact 
and frankness will serve you better than I can. Only, be pa- 
tient, I beg of you ; patient, and charitable." 

He took her hand and bowed low over it. 

Thank you," he murmured. I appreciate all that you 
have said to me." 


CHAPTER XIX. 

IN TROUBLE. IN DANGER." 

In telling Sir Felix of Fabrice's troubled night. Madam 
Congreve had exaggerated nothing. And yet, in spite of her 
sleeplessness, her sighs and groans and tears, La Belle Fabrice 
was a very lovely creature to look upon when she turned her 
steps briskly up Fifih Avenue that morning. 

Sparkling eyes, charming faces, and bewitching toilets are 
the rule upon this aristocratic thoroughfare. But the charm- 
ing face and daintily-poised head, the easy, self-reliant spring- 
ing gait, and the j)erfectly-adj listed, elegantly-simple street- 
dress, with its unmistakable English" air, drew many eyes 
and elicited many admiring comments. 

A few minutes of brisk walking brought into the face of 


140 


A LOST WITNESS. 


the pretty little Comedienne a brighter look, for youth and 
health yield readily to the influences of a fair morning, and 
Fabrice possessed a naturally brave and buoyant temperament. 

In her hand, concealed under the fringes of her mantle, she 
carried a letter. After she had walked for half a dozen blocks 
in the direction of the Park, she gave a swift glance up and 
down, crossed the street, and deposited her letter in a box, 
standing for a moment after the deed was done, upon the shady 
corner, and looking about her again. 

After a final glance at the letter-box, as if to assure herself 
that the letter had been quite swallowed by it, she walked tow- 
ard Central Park, recrossing the street after a block or two, 
and turning finally upon 57th Street, going eastward, and 
coming out with slackened step and alert eyes upon Lexing- 
ton Av.enue. 

At the corner she paused, and involuntarily put up her hand, 
as if to pull closer down the filmy veil which half covered, 
but did not conceal, her piquant face. It seemed as if she were 
about to turn and go back as she came, but the hesitation was 
only for an instant. She set her red lips together and walked on 
slowly, with her eyes fixed upon the object of her momentary 
surprise and seeming alarm. 

This object was a woman, elderly and ugly, with eager black 
e}'es and a hooked nose, — a woman in shabby garments which 
yet bore evidences of having been donned with an efibrt at 
tawdry smartness, — a woman whose bonnet was younger than 
her years, and whose step was so steady and brisk that Fa- 
brice was compelled to quicken her own pace in order to keep 
close behind her. 

The woman hurried on, and the face of Fabrice became very 
grave and determined as she followed. 


IN TROUBLE. IN DANGER.’^ 141 

When tlie old woman slackened her pace, as they were ap- 
proaching a long row of apartment houses, the girl halted and 
took lip a position beside a fruit-stand near the street-cor- 
ner. 

Yes,’’ she said, half aloud in her preoccupation, she’s go- 
ing there.” 

The old woman was already lialf-way up the long steps, and 
in a moment had disappeared behind one of the stately double 
doors of the entrance. 

I shall make no call today,” La Belle Fabrice murmured, 
as she turned away. I may as well go back.” 

Madam Congreve was seated in her favorite place by one of 
the long windows, with a book in her lap, and she welcomed 
Fabrice with a smile. * . 

You have just missed Sir Felix,” she said. 

I know it,” said Fabrice* I saw him going.” 

“ And he saw you ?” 

No, I think not.” 

Madam looked down at her book and out of the window. 

He expects us to drive with him,” she said 

Yes,” tossing aside her hat and mantle. 

Shall you go ?” The face of the elderly woman was act- 
ual ly flushing. 

Fabrice was quick to see it. She went over and sat down 
on a hassock near her friend. 

Conny,” she began, seriously, I came in feeling like a 
culprit, but, really, you look like one.” She drew the has- 
sock closer and rested her arms on her friend’s lap. Have you 
been abusing Sir Felix ?” 

Abusing Sir Felix !” Madam Congreve could speak 
nov/, and she did. She had thought of herself as confessing ; 


142 


A LOST WITNESS. 


owning up to her share in a little plot ; well meant, to be sure, 
but a plot for ail that. But now she was telling her story, 
and the story of Sir Felix, in a tone more narrative than con- 
fessional ; telling it pithily, sarcastically ; telling it well, 
throughout. 

From the first, Fabrice had listened with downcast eyes and 
drooping head. Once or twice only did she look up or change 
her position. When the end was reached she was sitting with 
her hands clasped about her knees, and the hassock drawn 
close to Madam’s feet, so that her curly head rested against the 
lady’s arm. 

When Madam finally ceased, the girl drew a long sighing 
breath, and nestled closer to her companion, her head drooping 
so that it could not be seen. 

Formally moments they botlr so sat in silence. Finally, 
Madam broke the spell. 

“ Fabrice,” gently stroking the soft hair, are you angry ?” 

No, Conny.” 

A.nother long silence ; then . 

My dear, answer me one question.” 

^^Well ?” 

^^In telling you all this, have you been surprised at any- 
thing ? Have you not guessed as much all along ?” 

I have guessed, I have known, of course, something.” 

How much ?” 

Conny, that is two questions.” 

I know it. Fabrice, don’t you realize that you are an es- 
pecially fortunate woman ?” 

Unfortunate is the right word, Con.” 

Nonsense, child ; you make me angry with you. Youth 
does not last always ; even beauty, and talent, and popularity 


143 


IN TEOUBLE. IN DANGER/^ 

such as yours, will wane some day. Look at yourself as you 
are now, this very day : The foremost actress in this great 
country, with all the world of wealth and fashion at your feet ; 
with such youth and beauty, such health and strength ; with 
one fortune already half made, the other half at your beck. 
A second fortune, a title, a noble name, and peace and serenity 
to your dying day are also at your command. You know what 
it will be when you have once made your bow before these New 
Yorkers. Next week will be an ovation. Do you think 
there is a woman in all this great city who would not be glad 
to stand in your shoes? And then — Fabrice, think — from 
the very zenith of success, with the city ringing with your 
name, with society at your beck, it is in your power to step- 
front fame to fame, from the stage to an earldom. Think 
even La Belle Fabrice must lay down her honor some day 
and lose her name in oblivion ; but from La Belle Fabrice to 
Lady ^yyntoun — ah, thiidv, dearie 

She bent over the bowed head and tried to lift it. She was 
surprised, and pleased, to find her favorite so quiet, so seem- 
ingly susceptible to reason. 

Fabrice I” 

Suddenly, the still little figure sprang erect, and standing a lit- 
tle aloof from her friend, the girl faced lier — faced her in si- 
lence for a moment, with blanched cheek, parted lips, and eyes 
that burned in their sad intensity and glistened with unshed 
tears. 

Think She flung herself down beside her friend once 
more, and, burying her face in the fold of Madam’s flowing 
gown, gave way to a burst of tears. 

For many moments the sobs shook her frame, and Madam 
sat quietly, passing her hands caressingly over the bowed head, 


144 


A Lost witness. 


and letting the storm rage on. At last the sobbing became 
fainter, then ceased altogether, and only long shuddering sighs 
were heard. Finally, site lay quite still, with her arms clasp- 
ing her friend’s knees, and suffered her tear-stained face to be 
dried upon Madam’s soft handkerchief. 

The lady still sat patiently caressing the humbled head, when, 
after many minutes of silence, the girl sighed heavily and 
breathed out, in disjointed syllables, her friend’s name. 

^'Conny !” 

Yes, my dear.” 

Conny, listen. When we left London — I didn’t think — 
I didn’t think, surely — that he was serious.” 

Serious ? He was always sincere, child ; from the very 
first moment. Why, Fabrice, you ought to know, girl iis you 
are, that such a man as Sir Felix Wyntoun could not trifle.” 

Fabrice sighed heavily. 

I suppose I ought. But, Conny, I want to believe, I 
want you to make him believe, that if I had known, if I had 
been sure, that he would follow me here, I would have tried 
to prevent it, I would have forbidden it.” 

Fabrice ! Nonsense, child !” 

^^Yes, I would. I — I am sure that I would. I must 

have done it.” 

Fabrice, what are you saying ? Are you going to refuse 
him now ?” 

The girl raised her head with a weary motion. He must 
not ask me. You must not let him ask me, Conny.” 

Madam Congreve rung her hands despairingly. 

Oh, child ! child !” she cried, do you think I can con- 
trol him now? It is too late, Fabrice. You must hear him 
and answer him. There is no other way.” 


145 


IN TROUBLE. IN DANGER.’’ 

Again the girFs head went down upon Madam’s lap. 

Oh!” she moaned, ^4his is so hard I Conny, yon have 
been his friend ; be mine now. Don’t let him talk lo me of 
this. Tell him he must not. Tell him anything 1” 

I wish I could tell him anvthino: reasonable.” There was 
a note of sternness in Madam’s tone. I wish you would 
trust me, Fabrice. What has come over you since yesterday ? 
Would you have talked like this, or felt like this, two days 
ago ?” 

Up again came the bent head, and in the eyes that met hers, 
Madam saw a new look — a look of terror, of startled remem- 
brance. And then, in a tone of deepest self-reproach, the girl 
answered : 

Oh, Heaven forgive me, I had forgotten — base, ungrate- 
ful little wretch that I am ! Conny,” catching her friend’s 
hand convulsively, you must have patience with me. You 
must let me think.” 

Again she hid her face in the friendly shelter of Madam’s 
gown, and remained thus, silent, for many long moments. 
Then she looked up, passed a hand over her forehead, smoothed 
the ruffled rings of hair above her brows, and, rising from her 
half-crouching, half-kneeling posture, resumed her place upon 
the hassock as at first. 

Conny,” she began, quite humbly, bear with me for a 
little longer. I can’t tell you much — anytliing, in fact — at 
least, not now. Stop — oh, I know how well I can trust you ! 
It isn’t that. I know how you would try to comfort me. But 
it mustn’t be — not yet. It is punishment, not comfort, that I 
deserve. Conny, dear old Conny, how long have yon known 
me ?” 

Why, for two good years. What a question, child !” 


146 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Yes, I know. But this is what I mean : Ask yourself 
what I have been in these two years ? Have I been good ? 
Have I been frank and true ? If you had a sister, would you 
likelier to be what I have been, or seemed to be, in these two 
years 

Madam Congreve was too thoroughly English to relish a 
scene, even of a moderate and private sort, off the stage. 
But she was fond of Fabrice, and she felt sure that the girPs 
distress was genuine, though possibly, she thought, the cause 
was exaggerated. 

Honestly, my dear,^^ she said, in all the time I have 
known you, — and remember, I have known you under no or- 
dinary circumstances, no ordinary temptations, — yon have been 
an honest, kind, true-hearted girl. You have been generous, 
unaffected and modest in the midst of flattery that would have 
turned the head of a saint. Do I need to tell you that in your 
profession you have been a paragon, and in and out of it al- 
ways the lady? I should be very proud of such a sister, my 
dear.” 

Fabrice laid her cheek caressingly upon her friend^s hand, 
and then sat down beside her. 

‘^lam grateful for your good opinion, Conny.” During 
Madam’s long speech she seemed to have regained her compo- 
sure, and she now spoke like her usual self, although with un- 
usual gravity. 

^^In the eyes of the world^^ I may be all that you say, and 
in the eyes of Sir Felix Wyntoun also. You have knowirme 
two years, and that is sufficient for you. All that remains be- 
hind, you, accept upon faith. But Sir Felix — for him, should 
I listen to him, all that lies behind these last years must be 
unveiled ; for him and for his family. You realize that ?” 

Yes ; I suppose so — of course.” 


147 


IN TROUBLE IN DANGER.’^ 

Fabrice got up and stood before her friend. For a moment 
she was silent ; then she clasped her hands, lifted them above 
lier head, and with an impetuous gesture flung them apart and 
let them fall at her side. 

I wish with all my heart and sonl,’^ she cried, that I 
were not and never had been an actress P 

Madam regarded her in silence, but with a shade of coldness 
in her glance. 

If I were Fabrice the milliner, Fabrice the mantua-ma- 
ker, Fabrice the saleswoman,’^ the girl went on, I might do 
as I would. But as La Belle Fabrice, favorite for the moment, 
my every act blazoned in the newspapers as soon as I have 
stepped bef )re the public — I am alone.” 

Madam Congreve arose. 

One would think that you were rehearsing a new part, 
child,” she said. 

Fabrice caught her arm and walked beside her slowly the 
length of the room. 

I may never rehearse a new part, Conny. I am in 
trouble, and I may be in danger. Don’t ask me any ques- 
tions, please. Sometime, soon I hope, I may speak freely. 
I may need your help. But now, just now, oh, be patient with 
me !” 

There was a sob in her throat, and Madam Congreve, alive 
to the present and all that was practical, turned upon her and 
put two firm hands on her shoulders. 

If we are going to drive with Sir Felix, you must not show 
him, and half New York, a pear of tear-swollen eyes. Haven’t 
I told you, child, that there’s nothing in this world worth cry- 
ing about ?” 

^^Oh!” sighed Fabrice, if I could only make myself be- 


148 


A LOST WITNESS. 


lieve it T' She slipped from under her friend’s caressing hands. 

At any rate, I won’t cry now,” she said, and vanished be- 
hind the tall screen. 


CHAPTER XX. 

PROPHETIC. 

Shortly before the time appointed by Sir Felix, as Madam 
was attiring herself for tlieir drive, some one tapped gently at 
her door, and the voice of Fabrice called softly ; 

Conny, may I come in ?” 

To be sure, my dear.” 

Fabrice came in quickly and carefully closed the door. 

I have been thinking,” she said, in her old straightforward 
fashion, and I want you to do a little bit of diplomacy now. 
I want you to say a few words to Sir Felix, for me.” 

“ Oh !” Madam turned from the mirror with a beplumed 
bonnet poised upon one hand, 

I have not said that I would not receive Sir Felix’ ad- 
dresses,” the girl went on, smiling a little, nor that I would. 
But, as he has asked your help, you can offer him one more bit 
of good advice.” 

Umph !” Madam turned back to the mirror and began put- 
ting on the plumed bonnet. 

“ I want you to tell him that he must not approach me upon 
this subject at present. I admit that I like Sir Felix, that 1 
value his friendship, and that I am loath to lose it. But I caip 


PROPHETIC. 


149 


not put him in a position from which he might wish to with- 
draw. And I dare not make my own position worse, more 
painful, than it now is, by accepting him. 1 can explain noth- 
ing now. I may even need his advice, his help, very soon — if 
he will give it to me as a friend. Mind, it must be as a friend 
only. If he will agree to this, I shall be truly grateful. If not 
— well, I cannot receive him upon any other terms.” 

Madam continued tying on her bonnet. It seemed to re- 
quire all of her attention. When it was done she turned upon 
Fabrice. 

All this is very hard upon an old woman who loves her 
ease,” she said, whimsically. ^‘But I am committed to both of 
you. I accept the commission, of course. But, don’t tell me. 
Miss, that you don’t know just what Sir Felix will say. We 
couldn’t drive him off the field.” 

We shall see,” replied Fabrice ; but there was a little smile 
hovering about the corners of her lips, and she kept her eyes 
turned away. 

Tell him in your own way, Conny. Be as frank as you 
please.” 

I will,” said Madam, beginning to labor with a long brown 
glove. My dear, the situation will be perfectly farcical. It’s’ 
lucky that Sir Felix is Sir Felix. Fancy such a position 
with Mr. Quinlan in his place.” 

I can’t,” promptly replied Fabrice. With such a man 
it would be impossible.” 

When Sir Felix came. Madam was awaiting him, and she 
lost no time in telling him of the result of her conference with 
Fabrice, adding all else she was told. 

It’s not worth while to try an appeal from this decision of 
hers ; not yet. It’s a position that would try a saint. But if 


150 


A r.O.ST WITNESS. 


you can accept it — if you’ve got the necessary faith, hope, and 
charity, — not to mention tiie patience, — I’d be glad to have you 
stay in your old place.” 

I shall do that,” lie answered, promptly, since I must. 
And I mean to make the most of even the small advantage she 
gives me.” He smiled into her face, and she secretly rejoiced 
in his hopeful tenacity. I know well enough that I’ve not 
got the eloquence to win my case by my tongue; but if faith 
and hope and patience will win, she’ll have to give in sooner or 
later — or order me off the ground.” 

Madam’s face brightened. 

‘‘ Ah !” she began, impetuously, then checked herself and 
held out her hand. 

When Fabrice joined them a few minutes later, he was tell- 
ing the story of Leah Paget’s disappearance, but he checked 
his speech and took her hand with cordial frankness. 

have been telling your friend about Miss Paget,” he ex- 
plained. 

Oh ! that poor girl ! You must tell it over for me.” 

Yes,” he said, when they were seated ; in fact, I have a 
message for you.” 

He took a letter from his pocket and opened it. 

It is from my friend. Max Talfourd,” he explained. It’s 
a sort of reply to a note which I sent to report my success in 
doing a little commission for him. We’re good friends,” he 
added, in a half apologetic tone, and I suppose I must have 
mentioned my engagement with you, for he says here,” — re- 
ferring to the letter as if to refresh his memory, — he says I 
am to present his remembrances, and to explain to you his 
present position, and that you will uiiderstand why you have 
not seen him here. Talfourd is in deep trouble, It was not 


PROPHETIC. 


151 


yet generally known, but Miss Leah Paget was \\\s fiancee. And 
then in reply to numerous sympathetic questions and ejacula- 
tions, he told the story, as lie knew it, of Leah Paget’s disap- 
pearance and of Max Talfourd’s troubles. 

I feel that I may give you these details,” he said. Of 
course, the thing is bound to be circulated ; that’s a pen- 
alty one pays for being in ^ society.’ Besides, Talfourd 
has given me carte blanche, and I’ve already enlisted in his 
service. I’m bound to see him through.” And he laughed 
as he turned his eyes upon Fabrice. Who knows that I 
may not yet go in for some regular detective business of my 
own.” 

Oh !” ejaculated Fabrice, I only wish I could.” 

Sir Felix laughed again. 

“I shouldn’t wonder if you would make a good one,” he 
said. 

Fabrice was, for the time, full of the subject of Leah Paget’s 
fate and of Max Talfourd’s troubles, and oblivious of her 
own. 

I do not know Mr. Talfourd well,” she said, after some 
talk. “ I dined with him, or rather, he was my vis-a-vis at a 
dinner once — and I never saw Miss Paget. But how sad 
and strange it is ! You will keep us informed. Sir Felix — 
that is, as far as you may ?” 

He was only too ready to promise, and Madam took up the 
thread. 

‘‘Was any motive guessed at? Was there any theory?” 
Madam had read many novels, and was versed in mysteries, 
and she suggested one possibility after another, each more hid- 
eous than the last. 

“ Oh, I hope it will not turn out such an awfully lurid af- 


152 


A LOST WITNESS. 


fair, Madam. I confess, I^n not good at guessing, and there’s 
only one thing that suggests itself to me as probable.” 

And what is that ?” 

Blackmail.” 

Blackmail !” Fabrice started and then closed her lips. 

Yes, — getting hold of the young lady and keeping her 
imprisoned until the father consents to come down handsomely 
for her ransom.” 

Such things have happened, of course,” mused Madam. 

In fact, blackmail is heard of, in one way and another, too 
often.” 

Yes,” he replied. It’s safer than highway robbery, and 
some of our rasealsare finding it out.” 

It shouldn’t be safer,” said Madam, severely. 

No, it shouldn’t. And it wouldn’t be if the parties vic- 
timized would only keep their heads. Everything is on their 
side, — the law, public opinion and all that, even when they’re 
guilty. And when they’re innocent — yet they say that an in- 
nocent man is just as apt to be scared into giving blood-money 
as a guilty one, on the ground, perhaps, that every man has 
something he would rather not see advertised, I suppose. He 
submits on that general principle.” 

And how,” asked Fabrice, slowly, ‘‘ how is it when it is a 
woman ?” 

A woman ?” Sir Felix turned toward her quickly. A 
woman who submits to blackmail, innocent or guilty, simply 
sacrifices herself. She might as well commit suicide.” 

You are right there,” said Madam, rising. If I were 
the guiltiest woman living, I would risk all other dangers— 
yes, dare them — before I would put myself into the power of 
the blackmailer.” 


PEOPHETIC. 


153 


When they came out upon the street, Fabrice glanced up 
and down as she stood beside the carriage, while Madam was 
being helped to her place ; and as Sir Felix offered his hand, 
her eyes encountered those of a person who was approaching 
them at a rapid pace. 

It was a woman in a shabby dress, — a dark-faced, hooked- 
nosed, bla(;k-eyed woman. As she met the gaze of Fabrice 
she hastened her pace; but there was neither haste nor hesita- 
tion in the movements of Fabrice as she gave her hand to her 
escort and took her place beside INIadam. 

Do you know, dear,’^ said that lady, looking back over 
her shonlder as they rolled away, do yon know I almost 
fancied that tlitit ugly woman beckoned to yon. Really, she is 
looking after ns yet.’’ 

Is she ?” returned the little actress, carelessly. I dare say, 

it’s your new bonnet, Conny.” 

Fabrice was in good spirits during that drive, — was so much 
her usual bright, sparkling, self-possessed yet simple-mannered 
self, that Madam was filled with wonder and Sir Felix with 
delight. They talked of the coming season,” Fabrice’s 
season, when she would make her debut ; and Sir Felix pre- 
dicted a triumph. 

I am going to send you a basket,” he said, lightly ; 
some of our own English roses. I am thinking of organiz- 
ing a claque 

indeed !” she laughed. Fie, Sir Felix! do 
you think that I shall need it?” 

Madam laughed. When it comes to that,” she said, drily, 
you may safely^ trust Manager Horton.” 

They had been driving northward on Fifth Avenue. It was 
just the liour when all society was out of doors, and they en- 


154 


LOST WITNESS. 


tered the Park at the scholars’ gate. The place was a perpet- 
ual delight to Madam Congreve, although she never failed to 
introduce Hyde Park, making more or hss invidious compar- 
isons, and ringing the praise© of the Mall and the Row. She was 
an obsei’vant pleasure-seeker, and soon she broke in upon her 
own discourse with a sharp exclamation. 

Look, Fabrice ! look, Sir Felix ! Didn’t you say that you 
had never seen lier ? Tiiere is the Mysterit)us Beauty — there, 
upon that tall mottled gray. Yes, that is Hortense Novalis.” 

Both Sir Felix and Fabrice looked as she bade them. 

Yes,” said Fabrice, quietly, it is she, and — your glass, 
Conny — is that not Mr. Quinlan beside her?” 

They were riding away from the carriage, the beautiful wo- 
man, with her glowing brunette loveliness, set oiF by a habit 
of shining black. At her corsage, she wore rich crimson 
roses, of the very hue of her full smiling lips, through which 
shone two rows of gleaming tiny teeth. Beside her, looking 
his usual cool and graceful self, and managing his powerful 
horse with careless-seeming skill, was Frederick Quinlan. 

Sir Felix gazed after them until they were lost in the crowd. 

She’s a splendid creature,” he said, addressing Madam Con- 
greve. 

She’s magnificent,” said that lady. 

I never saw a finer equestrian picture,” said Fabrice. 

How well they both ride.” 

She’s the grandest brunette I ever saw,” said Madam 
Congreve. Fabrice, you ought to have her for the rival 
part in your new play. What a superb foil for you !” 

There was an angry gleam in the eyes that turned upon the 
speaker, and a flush on the girl’s fair cheek, as she said, with 
energy : 


A blackmailer. 


155 


not SLigi^est such a thing, please. Sooner than appear 
with M'lle Hortense Novalis, I would throw up my engage- 
ment, and bury myself among the Digger Indians 
Alas, Fabrice ! 


CHAPTER XXL 

A BLACKMAILER. 

On the following morning La Belle Fabrice was, to all 
seeming, herself again, and Madam Congreve noted the fact 
with much satisfaction. 

You gave me a shock, child, she said, as the two sat at 
breakfast in Fabrice’s own boudoir. When one has settled 
down to the conviction that she knows her friend thoroughly, 
such a series of new phases as you have treated me to of late 
is — is a moral earthquake.’^ 

^^To tell the truth, Conny,” readied the girl, frankly, 
have surprised myself. But what kind of a character had you 
invented for me, I should be glad to know?” 

A very independent, a very self-contained and courageous 
character, my dear, is yours by nature, and, I should think, by 
cultivation also.” 

By experience is better. Con.” She helped herself to a 
morsel, and turned the conversation into other channels. 

They were still seated at the breakfast-table, although the 


156 


A LOST WITNESS. 


meal had been finished someiiine, when Fabrice’s maid ap- 
proached her and said, in a lovv tone : 

There is a woman in the corridor, Mademoiselle. She 
says she must see you, and she wonT go away.” 

‘‘What kind of a woman ?” asked Fabrice, composedly. 

“ An ugly woman, very shabby, and with little black eyes. 
Shall I make her go away ?” 

“You may show her in, and you may remain in the ante- 
room. See that no one else comes while she is here.” 

The look of astonishment upon the face of the retreating 
maid was reproduced in the countenance that Madam turned 
upon Fabrice. 

“ I thought you had vowed a quarantine against agents and 
beggars, child.” 

Fabrice laughed an odd, hard little laugh. 

“ You know your promise, Conny,” she said. “ You are 
going to stand by me ?” 

“ Going to — ” 

“ I do not think I am to be solicited. Con,” she went on ; 
“1 am going to be blackmailed, and I want you to stay just 
where you are.” 

She spoke in a low tone and pushed her chair a little away 
from the table, but she did not rise as a shabby woman, whom 
Madam instantly recognized as the one who had stared after 
them as they drove away with Sir Felix, entered the room. 
The visitor halted a moment under the swinging ere, which 
the servant held back for her to pass, and then came slowly 
forward, her eyes fixed upon Fabrice, a slow cunning smile 
widening her countenance, a smoky gleam in her beady, black 
eyes. 

She paused directly before Fabrice and seemed to hesitate. 


A BLACKMAILER. 


157 


Evidently, sometliing was not to lier liking. She glanced fur- 
tively at Madam sitting serenely at the table, supping luxuri- 
ously at a cup of chocolate and seemingly oblivious to the pres- 
ence of the ugly woman in her faded finery. 

Whatever had been the woman’s intentions upon entering, it 
was evident that she had lost her hold upon them, and she now 
stood before Fabrice with a shade of irresolution in her man- 
ner and face. 

Tlie girl sat perfectly still, making no pretense at occupa- 
tion with the breakfast things, or the newspapers at her side. 
She let her hands lie idly in her lap and looked coolly at the 
newcomer. She waited a moment to give her visitor the first 
word ; then she said, quietly : 

‘‘ You wished to see me ?” 

Ah, my dear child, when haven’t I wished to see you ?” 
She put out her hand to Fabrice, and her smile grew more ex- 
pansive. 

What can I do for you ?” The hand and the smile were 
both ignored. 

The woman started back and a shade of anger darkened her 
face. But she controlled lierself and said, in a wheedling 
tone : 

My dear, Fve been unfortunate, and Fm not fit, I know, 
to come into your splendid rooms. But you can’t have forgot- 
ten who I am ?” 

no,” said Fabrice, composedly ; I know whoyou are.” 

What, and you receive me like this?” The smoky smile 
was all gone and the black eyes gleamed. 

‘‘ My reception must be a very brief one,” the girl replied. 

My engagements are numerous.” 

The old woman cast a sharp glance upon Madam Congreve, 


158 


A LOST WITNESS. 


wiio had finished her chocolate, and was, to all appearances, 
immersed in tlie columns of a morning paper. Then she turned 
again to Fabrice. 

I want to see you alone,^’ she said, shortly. 

Fabrice bent forward and possessed herself of the long gloves 
at her side. She was dressed for the street. 

Anything that you may have to say must be said here,’^ she 
returned, decisively, and said now. I am going out.’^ She 
began to draw on one of the gloves, as if her whole mind was 
in the effort. 

“ What Fve come to say,’^ exclaimed the now enraged 
woman, you’d better hear in private — for your own sake. 
You know what I mean.” As she spoke the last words she 
swept some unfolded })apers from a chair near Fabrice, and 
seated herself with an air of dogged determination. 

Madam Congreve lowered the newspaper slightly and looked 
over at Fabrice. That cool young lady was buttoning the 
long glove, into which she had inserted her left hand, as calmly 
as if she were alone in her dressing-room. When it was done, 
and she had taken up the other glove, she turned, and touched 
a bell at her elbow. 

Instantly, her maid was behind her. 

Janive,” she said, quietly, see that I have a carriage at the 
door in ten minutes, and be ready to go out with me.” 

The maid hastened away, and Fabrice turned again to her 
visitor. 

You see,” she said, how little time I can spare you. 
What is your object in coming to me ?” 

You won’t talk like that in a day or two. Miss,” exclaimed 
the irate woman. “You can’t afford to put on airs with 
me.” 


A BLACKMAILEE. 


159 


That is for me to judge. Will you make known your er- 
rand ?” 

May I see you alone 

• ^ By no means. You will not see me alone, and you will 
not see me again.” She began to pull on the other glove, 
while the woman sat silent, biting her under lip and clenching 
and unclenching her hands. Again the attention of Fabrice 
seemed centered in her glove. The room was so still that the 
rustle of Madam’s paper sounded noisy, and the light opening 
and shutting of a door near at hand was distinctly heard. 

It told Fabrice that the maid had accomplished her errand 
and returned. 

When the last button was secured, she turned again to the 
woman. 

If your errand is an honest one,” she said — “ if you are in 
want, or if your coming here is from any proper motive, you 
need not hesitate to make it known. But I have already told 
you that my time is limited.” 

The woman glared at her sullenly, moving her head from 
side to side with a slow dogged movement. 

She looks like some baJSled animal,” thought Madam Con- 
greve, watching her furtively, while seeming to see nothing but 
the newspaper. 

‘^You don’t receive all your old acquaintances like this,” 
the woman sneered. 

I am not receiving you. Madam ; I am simply tolerating 
your presence.” 

Perhaps you don’t acknowledge me as an old friend ?” 

“ Certainly not.” 

The old woman got up hastily and took a step toward Fa- 
brice. 


160 


A LOST WITNESS. 


You’ll be sorry for this,” she hissed. I had something 
to say to you on my own account, and for your good. But 
that was not all ; I had a message for you. Never mind ; 
there’s plenty of people who will be glad to hear some of the 
things that I can tell them. You ain’t in a position to make 
an enemy of me, Miss ; you — 

She stopped short. Fabrice had put out her hand and 
touched the bell sharply. Something in the girl’s face caused 
her to hesitate in the midst of her wrathful tirade. 

Again the prompt and not-to-be-astonished maid was at 
hand. 

“ Speak to the hall porter, Janive, and tell him to get a po- 
liceman here at once. Or, wait; if this person is ready to 
go — ” She stopped, but seeing that the woman preserved lier 
dogged aspect, she made a quick gesture, which the maid un- 
derstood, and who departed, smiling. 

Then Fabrice arose and confronted her unw^elcome guest. 

“ You have shown your intentions,” she said, in her calmest, 
firmest tones. And you have overreached yourself. You 
need not come here again ; it will do you no good. You must 
carry your blackmailing talents to another market. You can- 
not harm me, and you cannot frighten me. I intend to teach 
you that you do not know me. Go your way. Say what you 
will and do what you can. But if you care for your own wel- 
fare and safety, keep my name off your lips and keep out of my 
sight. I am not a good subject for blackmail. There is noth- 
ing in my past or present to conceal or to be ashamed of. Now 
go. If you open your lips again in my presence, I will send you 
to the Police Station, charged with an attempt at blackmail— 
and worse.” 

She pointed to the curtained entrance, and then, seeino- that 



161 








162 


A LOST WITNESS. 


the woman stood still, quivering and speechless with rage, she 
swept past her and held aside the portiere. 

Tliere was a sound in the corridor without, and the door of 
the anteroom opened. 

Is he coming, Janive 

“ Yes, Mademoiselle,” said the maid, from without ; “ by 
the elevator.” 

Fabiice turned toward the woman. 

You have one chance,” she said ; by the stairway.” 

Without a word, the woman stalked past her, turned in the 
door to give her one black, menacing, baffled look, and went 
hurriedly toward the stairway. 

She’ll have plenty of time,” said the maid, composedly, as 
she closed the outer door. The elevator is going down.” 

Get your hat, Janive,” said Fabrice, at the same time 
putting on her own. We must go at once.” 

• When the invaluable maid had gone. Madam Congreve 
made her first sign of animation and interest. She arose 
quickly, went over to Fabrice, and took her in her arms. 

My little girl,” she said, I do not understand you, but I 
am proud of you ! I will not ask again for your confidence ; 
but remember, that with it, or without it, I stand your friend. 
I am going to trust you. Try to trust me, and let me help 
you when I can.” 

She kissed the girl’s cheeks, first one and then the other, in 
that charming way women have, and then gently released her. 

For a moment Fabrice seemed struggling with some strong 
emotion ; tiien she turned toward her friend. 

Heaven bless you, my good, true friend,” she said. You 
see, now, that I was right yesterday. Innocent or guilty, 
could I have braved that woman and conquered her, if I had 


A STRANGE ALLY. 


163 


been the promised wife of’ a good and loving man, for whom I 
cared ? And this, I fear, is but the beginning. But it woif t 
last long, Conny ; it caif t. Ah, my dear, if the world could 
know what I carry here^’ — she put a iiand upon her breast, and 
smiled a little woful smile — how many do you think would 
envy La Belle Fabrice V’ 

She crossed to the swinging mirror, adjusted her hat, and 
came back to the place where Madam stood. 

Conny,” she said, gently, I am going on an unpleasant 
errand. But I won’t be long. When I come back I shall 
know, at least, whether I am to have peace or war. It’s a 
wretched business, and I wisii you knew the worst of it. But 
I’ve held my peace while the sun shone ; I’ll hold it yet a 
little longer. I appreciate what you are doing for me. Don’t 
think I am not grateful. God bless you, Conny !” 

She caught her friend by her two plump shoulders, kissed 
her swiftly, and went hurriedly out. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

A STRANGE ALLY. 

Mrs. Volney and her passenger were silent, while the little 
coup4 rolled swiftly and almost noiselessly down the broad 
street. The lady leaned tranquilly back among her cushions, 
and seemed to have foi’gotten his proximity ; and Cousin al- 
most held his breath while he stole furtive glances at the fair, 
sweet profile beside him. 


164 


A r.OST WITNESS. 


For sometime she so sat, her little black-gloved hands crossed 
lightly in her lap, her lips half parted, her eyes looking ab- 
sently straight before her, their expression that of wistful sad- 
ness. 

How beautiful she was ! And with what dainty, what ex- 
quisite beauty ! Plain, shrewd, practical Polly Cousin felt the 
spell of her loveliness to his finger tips. But, because he was 
practical, and in spite of her charm, he was asking himself as 
they rolled along : 

Why has she done this? What does she want with me ?’^ 

Presently, she stirred slightly, sighed softly, uncrossed her 
little hands and turned toward him. 

Pardon me,^^ the sweet, low voice began ; pardon my 
preoccupation. Am I cai lying you too far, or out of your 
way ? Where shall I set you down 

I won^t trouble you to go out of your way,’’ he said ; and 
he was angrily conscious that he was reddening again under 
her soft glance. If you are going in that direction, you may 
drop me at Union Square.” 

But will that serve you ?” she said, smiling a little. It 
will be a poor favor that I shall do you if I put you out, and 
then seeing you walk off to complete your journey. I am quite 
at leisure. Don’t let me feel that I have not saved you trou- 
ble after all.” 

Cousin was silent a moment, and then he said, with something 
like his usual unconventional ease of manner ; 

I was going to Police Headquarters.” 

Oh,” she said, softly. 

To report,” he went on, with a half smile at the recollec- 
tions of its futility, to report the re sult of my interview with 
Mr. Paget.” 


A STRANGE ALLY. 


165 


Oh/’ she said again, this time with another little sigh. 
Again she was silent a moment; then she turned her face full 
upon him, with a pathetic half smile aud a hesitating manner. 

Will you let me ask you one or two questions, Mr. ” 

Cousin.” 

Mr. Cousin, do not think me simply curious. Leah 
Paget was my dear friend. And I have heard nothing, except 
the newspapers’ reports, and the little I learned at Mr. Paget’s. 
Can you tell me anything — not of your professional work, 
but about Leah ; — the manner of her going, and if you have 
any clue, any hope. I feel inexpressibly shocked. Leah was 
so much to me, who have no sister, no nearer friend ; and then, 
she was betrothed to my — ” She stopped suddenly and di-ew 
back, as if stai tied by her own words. Pardon me,” she said, 
“ 1 took it for granted that you knew all of the family secrets.” 

‘‘ I shall be very glad to tell you anything that I can, 
Madam,” Cousin said, a touch of eagerness in his tone. I am 
acting in this matter for my friend. Captain Connors.” 

Captain Connors ?” She had again turned her face toward 
him. Pardon my ignorance, but — ” 

Captain Connors is the Chief of Police,” he explained. 

I see ; and you ?” 

“ He has asked me to assist him, and I am endeavoring to 
do so.” 

Pardon me. You say you are asked — you are a detect- 
ive, are you not ?” 

There was a little drawing back in the dainty figure, a little 
added dignity to the tone. 

“ Yot quite that.” He was somehow conscious that he was 
glad to be able to answer her so. Although I belong to a 
calling as inquisitive ; I’m a reporter.” 


166 


A LOST WITNESS. 


A reporter witli a soft little laugh. I think I was 
beginning to be afraid of you, under the impression that you 
were a detective. I am not sure but that I stand in some awe 
of you as it is. You will not consider this an interview, I 
hope r 

“ If it is, it is your interview. I woif t appropriate it.” 

Thank you.” Again she smiled upon him. Shall I 
drive you to the Station, Mr. Cousin ?” 

There was a touch of hesitancy in the way she put the ques- 
tion. And he smiled in turn, now quite at his ease. 

I won’t ask that of you. I fancy your driver wouldn’t 
quite like it,” he said. You will put me down at the cor- 
ner.” 

Y^ou put it clearly,” she said. My driver ! Yes, I will 
put you down at the corner. Are we near ?” She looked out 
and gave the necessary order. When she again turned to him, 
her face had regained its wistful earnest look. I feel that I 
am doing a very unusual thing, a bold thing, Mr. Cousin. I 
do hope that you will not misunderstand me. I am so anx- 
ious and so at a loss. The ones that I would naturally go to for 
information are those that are most grieved, most shocked, by 
their trouble. I want to hear in full, in detail, that which 
would hurt them most to tell. I am going to confess that it 
was to ask you about these things, quite as much as to do you 
a favor, that I asked you — 

Again she paused : her passenger was flushing to the very 
roots of his hair. 

I did not flatter myself. Madam,” he said. I am not 
accustomed to such little kindnesses for my own sake. I am 
quite aware that I am only of value in my place.” 

A sudden gesture stopped him , and the beautiful dark eyes, 


A STRANGE ALLY. 


167 


fixed upon his own, seemed to grow larger and deeper, and to 
silence and awe him with their look of mingled reproach and 
wounded dignity. 

AVhen she spoke again it was with gentle decision. 

Mr. Cousin, is your engagement with Captain Connors 
imperative ? Are you expected at a given moment 

^^Not quite that.’^ 

Tlien can you — it will be a real favor — can you give me 
a half hour of your time, now?’’ 

If you wish it.” He would have given her ten hours 
just as readily, if she had asked it. Ten hours or ten days, 
and at any cost. He did not realize this while he was speak- 
ing, but he knew it well enough afterward. 

Again she addressed the coachman. 

Home, Eugene.” 

Mrs. Volney was silent until her coup6 had stopped before 
a fine stately old residence upon Madison Avenue. Then she 
said, very gently : 

“ This is my home. You will come in, Mr. Cousin. I 
will not detain you long, and my carriage shall take you back.” 

Wondering much, he alighted, and she let him hand her out, 
walking before him uj) the long paved footway to the stately 
entrance-door. 

It was not a modern dwelling, that was evident from with- 
out, and the interior was in harmony with the outer appear- 
ance — of quiet, old-time, but not worn-out, elegance. How 
dignified and stately it all was ! — dignified, but not cold ; 
stately, but not forbidding. 

As he followed Mrs. Yolney across the square hall, noting 
the quiet splendor about him, the thought swept over him 
that the lithe, tall figure, going on before, was the right finish 


168 


A LOST WITNESS. 


to a fine picture, while he — (he caught glimpses of himself from 
glimmering mirrors as he traversed a long narrow reception- 
room) — he was certainly a discordant note. 

Having crossed the upper end of a splendid drawing-room, 
Mrs. Volney paused before aheavy^or^^ere, swept it aside and 
held it so for him to pass. 

“ If you will wait here, one moment,’^ she said as he entered, 
I will be with you again. You have been busy, and, is it 
my fancy, or are you fatigued ? You will let me offer you 
something 

He shook his head, and began an awkward protest ; but she 
only smiled, waved her hand, and with the words ^^For only 
a moment,^^ lifted the curtain and let it fall again behind her 
receding figure. 

In a whirl of contending sensations, in which curiosity, ad- 
miration, distrust, and a sense of his own uncouthness and 
rusticity, which, up to the last hour, he had fondly imagined 
he had shaken from him like an old-fashioned garment. Cousin 
looked about him, and waited. 

He was standing in a high-walled and magnificent library, 
splendid in its piled-np shelves and cases of richly-bonnd books, 
and its fittings of bronze and soft forest-green ; and while his 
gaze yet rested upon a pair of antique bronzes, a man-servant 
in quiet livery came in. 

He carried a tray, upon which rested a decanter and glasses ; 
and when he had put this down he poured out a glass of wine 
and presented it to Cousin. He remained standing beside his 
tray while Cousin drained the glass and refused another, then 
bowed and withdrew. 

The wine, he thought, was what he needed. He felt it 
warming his veins and restoring his self-possession. 


A STRANGE ALLY. 


169 


111 another moment, Mrs. Volney had returned. She had 
removed her mantle, and gloves, and bonnet with its perplex- 
ing widow^s cap and shrouding veil. And how beautiful she 
was ! The long straight folds of heavy trailing black enhanced 
the height and slenderness of her lithe swaying figure. The 
band of jets at her wrists made the small, long-fingered hands 
seem more like carved ivory. A similar gleaming band em- 
phasized the curves of her delicate white throat, and heightened 
the beautiful pallor of her exquisite face, with its glowing lips, 
its dark bewildering eyes, and its crowning glory of lustrous 
hair, drawn away in rippling richness from the blue-veined 
temples, and coiled loosely at the nape of her graceful neck. 

‘^Please, take that place, sir,’’ she said, indicating a seat 
near that into which she sank. Then, glancing toward the 
tray, Have you been served ? Will you take another 
glass ?” 

He stammered out his thanks, but again declined, and 
took the place she had pointed out. 

^^Now,” she said, will try and explain myself. And I 
beg of you, Mr. Cousin, that you will look upon me as a lov- 
ing, sorrowing fi’iend of Leah Paget’s ; a friend who knew her 
heart ; knew it better than even her mother could ; and who 
may, perhaps, be able to give you some help, some hint, that 
will aid you in your search.” 

Ah,” Cousin breathed, and involuntarily drew his chair a 
trifle nearer that occupied by the lady, while his hand went of 
its own volition to the pocket that contained his note-book. 

One moment,” she said, softly. Mr. Cousin, I place my- 
self at your mercy. Before we begin, I am going to ask you 
to regard all that passes between us — all — as sacred, and to 
let the fact of our acquaintance even be a secret between us. I 


170 


A LOST WITNESS. 


am a woman alone in the world, without parent or brother.^’ 

How pathetic her face was ! There were tears in her eyes 
as she went on : 

Leah Paget was my dearest friend, my only friend al- 
most. I loved her tenderly. I believe she has been foully 
wronged. Will you let me help you ? Will you be niy 
friend, for her sake ? Will you promise what I have 
asked 

She put out her hand in a beseeching gesture. Her glorious 
eyes were searching his face. 

With his heart throbbing, his head burning, and a wild 
whirl of new and strange emotions surging through his whole 
being, Percy Cousin, the practical, the uncouth, caught the 
outstretched hand between bnth his own, bent over it and 
kissed it, gallantly, like a knight of old. 


CHAPTER XXril. 

DIPLOMACY. 

The debut of La Belle Fabrice was literally the talk of the 
town. It fully occupied the allotted nine days,^’ and then, 
in defiance of general usage, bade fair to repeat itself. 

Her opening night was a hit,” an amazing success,” to 
quote the jubilant Manager Horton. The second night con- 
firmed the first. It indicated the tone of the popular pulse,” 


DIPLOMACY. 


171 


SO said the Morning Bulletin/’ “ It more than confirmed 
first impressions, and empliasized the certainty that the charm- 
ing little Comedienne from over the sea, would here, in New 
York, repeat and add to her success in London,” said the 

Social Echo.” It made the probability that La Belle Fa- 
brice, the beautiful little English Comedienne, would score 
such a success as had not been registered in annals theatrical 
for many a day — a certainty,” etc., etc. — this from the In- 
dicator.” And other enterprising daily papers piped more or 
less to the same tune. There was but one dissenting voice. 

Manager Horton, who, over his morning cup of coffee and 
cigar, and in the privacy of his own room, scanned, with keen 
and anxious eyes, the morning ptipers, one after another, (and 
who seasoned his necessarily early dinners with the afternoon 
issues,) uttered an oath as he put down the on the day 

after Fabrice’s debut. 

Last night, La Belle Fabrice, tlie latest importation of Manager Hor- 
ton, who usually knows what he is about, made her first appearance upon 
an American stage. No expense had been spared in making the way to 
the popular heart smooth to tliis new candidate for fame, and the max- 
im of the enterprising Manager, “ Advertising is all,” was proven good 
once more. The Theatre was filled long before the fashionable hour ; 
standing-room was at a premium, and a long line of batfled theatre-goers 
waiting for an entrance, and failing to get it, went away disconsolate. 
The initial programme, “ Queen Mab,” written expressly for the lead- 
ing Actress, will be repealed tonight. 

I’d like to know what ails that paper !” the Man- 

ager muttered. And I’ll take an early opportunity to find 
out.” 

Upon Fabrice’s second night, public anproval reached a cli- 
max. and society set its seal upon her. 

La Belle Fabrice was the fashion. 


172 


A LOST WITNESS. 


After due reflection, Manager Horton, wise as a serpent in 
all tliat pertained to his calling, decided to wait and see what 
the would say after La Belle Fahrice’s second night. 

The second evening of “ Queen Mab” was even more brilliant than 
the first. Long before the opening hour there was an ever-lengthening 
line before the theatre, and the box-office was under siege. It was Fash- 
ion’s field night. Not since the sublime Patti’s last appearance, has there 
been such a display of exquisite toilets and lovely faces, such a profusion 
of flowers and waving of fans, such sparkling of jewels and sheen of 
rich apparel. The house was beautifully decorated, and the stage set- 
ting was wonderful. Manager Horton certainly knows how to do things, 
and “Queen Mab” is likely to have a long run. 

Tlie Manager threw down the paper, and relieved his feel- 
ings in mankind's favorite manner. Then he picked it up, re- 
read the paragraph, and laughed long but not loud. 

His leading-man, who figured on tlie bills as Osmond 
Traverse, occupied the room opposite his own, and the Man- 
ager pulled on his smoking-coat and went to Traverse’s door. 

Come over a moment,” he said ; 1 want to show you the 

^ Calir^ 

Traverse was a good-looking Englishman, — not o handsome 
by daylight, however, so said the ladie.s, as he was upon the 
stage; in fact, quite a disappointment. He came out and went 
with Manager Horton back to the room of the latter. 

Bead that,” said the Manager. 

^'By Jawge !” exclaimed Traverse, when he had read the 
lines, ‘Hhat’s a jewced shame, don’t you know. Worse than 
yesterday. Jove ! why, they don’t even name La Belle, the 
duffers !” 

Then you saw the other ?” 

“ She showed it to me last night.” 

“ La Belle? She’s a cool one ! What did she say ?” 


DIPLOMACY. 


173 


‘^Only some of her nonsense. You know how she takes 
these things.’’ 

“ Umph ! Slie never had such a thing as this to take, since 
I’ve been her Manager. I know liow independent she is. A 
little too independent, sometimes.” 

Well,” said Traverse, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, she 
can afford to be independent, if any one can.” 

Any one can’t,” snapped the Manager ; especially a wo- 
man — and a woman always before the public. I’m hot about 
this. I’m going to see her.” 

Traverse released his chin and turned to look at his Manager. 

I may be wrong,” he said, slowly, but I give you the 
hint for what it is worth. I think she knows why the ^ CalV 
is so cold.” 

Eh ! Why ? Did she say—” 

She said nothing. It was something that Madam Con- 
greve let drop ; only a word at that, and a laugh.” 

I’m going to see them,” the Manager said again. 

He found them at home, and he found Sir Felix Wyntoun 
there also. 

The rooms were filled with the atmosphere of success. 
Flowers — some of them trophies of her two triumphant nights, 
and others sent with cards and notes and messages — had been 
arriving all day ; they covered the tables, and hung from brack- 
ets and chandeliers ; they were bestowed wherever flowers 
could be placed, and a pyramid of bouquets rested upon the 
floor. % 

Fabrice was dressed in a bewitching carriage costume, and 
Sir Felix stood in an attitude of waiting. 

Going out?” said the Manager to Fabrice. 

^^Ycs. Mr. Horton. Is it something urgent?” She 


174 


A LOST WITNESS. 


glanced from Sir Felix to the Manager, and then named them 
to each other. 

I will not detain yon,” the Manager said. Madam Con- 
greve has a look of being at home and at leisure.” 

If you have come to scold,” said Fabrice, I shouldn’t 
like to miss it.” 

The Manager hesitated, glanced at Sir Felix, and then made 
a bold stroke. 

I’ve come to ask you what you know about the ^Eveninq 
Calif 

A smile flitted across the face of Fabrice, leaving it demurely 
sober. Madam Congreve laughed unreservedly ; and even Sir 
Felix smiled broadly. 

Ah,” said the Manager, as he looked from one to the other, 
I am ont in the cold.” 

Has any one asked you to sit down ?” asked Fabrice. “ I 
am going to leave yon at the mercy of Madam Congreve, Mr. 
Horton.” 

He glanced approvingly over the charming flgure standing 
out before him. He was an admirer of dainty costumes, and 
a very good judge of them, as well. He knew their value, on 
or oflP the stage. He was a kindly man, and accustomed to 
treat those with whom he had to deal, in a familiar, fatherly 
fashion, that never became oppressive. He had a genuine 
liking for Fabrice, and his pride in her success was not 
based solely upon the advantages he would thereby reap. * 

It’s an iqaportant occasion, I see,” he said, smiling, as he 
seated himself. Don’t let me detain you ; only, I warn you, 
I shall besiege Madam here, the moment that you are gone.” 

“ About — ” she began. 

About this ^ CalV business.” 

Fabrice laughed musically. 


DIPLOMACY. 


175 


Tlien, il^s Madam whom I must leave to your tender mer- 
cies/^ she said ; and entrusting her fan and bouquet to Sir Fe- 
lix, went her way. 

The Manager drew his cliair nearer to the favorite window 
of Madam’s. She had been a member of his Company for years, 
and he knew how to apj)reciate her. In fact, the good lady had 
been dubbed by the comedian of the party, Horton’s Men- 
tor,” and it was not altogether a misnomer. 

May I ask the occasion ?” he said, taking up a bouquet 
from the pyramid near his feet, and sniffing at it from time to 
time as they talked. 

She understood him. “ I believe it’s an art collection ; pri- 
vate gallery opened to a small party, especially for the benefit 
of Fabrice and Sir Felix.” 

“ Oh, indeed — and Sir Felix?” 

“ That is what I said. It’s something quite swell, I should 
think — Poultneys’.” 

The ]\Ianager pursed up his lips in a pantomimic whistle. 

Poultneys’ ! That is swell — a private collection and a rare 
one — not often opened, \yell, our Fabrice has taken the city.” 

Yes ; she was sure to do that.” 

Heavens, how well she played last night ! It’s a relief to 
me, that. Has anything gone wrong with her of late, Madam ?” 

With Fabrice ?” Madam looked up from a strip of needle- 
work upon which she had not yet made a beginning, innocent 
wonder depicted upon her countenance. She was thoroughly 
loyal to La Belle. 

have fancied sometimes that she was growing listless; 
didn’t take enough interest in her American debut. She seemed 
to have lost all her enthusiasm.” He stopped and looked at 
her inquiringl}^ 


176 


A r.OST WITNESS. 


I suppose we jill have our dull days/^ was her coiiiiiieut. 
She certainly plays with all her old vigor and dash.^’ 

Gad ! I should say so !. She has scored a grand victory. 
Everybody is inquiring about her. And when you come to 
think of it, how little we know of her.^’ 

Again his pause was a question. Madam was threading her 
embroidery needle ; it took her entire attention. 

By the way,’’ he began again, wise in his generation ; 
are you going to tell me about this ^ CalV business ? I want 
to stop it.” 

Madam laughed ; she h ad succeeded in threading her needle, 
and now began work. 

Yes,” she said, I’ll tell you about that. I’m sure Fa- 
brice won’t mind.” 

And she told, in her own way — and the Madam could tell a 
story well^ — ^about the visit of the ^CalV reporter — whose name 
she-did not know — and its absurd ending. She t< Id her stoiy so 
well that it set him ofP in shouts of la ughtei', although after all 
was told he began to look grave. 

A perfect farce, by Jove !” he exclaimed. But what a 
daring thing ! Who but Fabrice, on the very eve of a first 
a})pearance, too, would have dared to trifle so with a reporter ? 
They’re sometimes powerful fellows, in their way ; and dan- 
gerous, too. How did the fellow look ? Describe him.” 

Madam did so, and the Manager slapped his knee and cried : 

‘^I know, him. It’s Cousin — one of their best men. I 
wish it had been somebody else.” Then he seemed to take a 
more cheerful view of the case. But I think I can fix it 
somehow. What a reckless thing for Fabrice to do !” 

‘^I’ll tell her you say so,” said Madam. 

Umph ! much she will care for that. But I’m glad that 


DIPLOMACY. 


177 


youVe told me.’^ He dropped the subject and did not recur 
to it again. 

Are you willing, now, to tell me about this young En- 
glishman?’’ he asked, after some desultory talk. 

“ About Sir Felix Wyntoun?” 

Yes.” 

I know very little about him.” 

“You know something about his intentions, his relations, 
his friendship for Fabrice, don’t you ?” 

“ I know nothing about Fabrice and her friends, Mr. Hor- 
ton, that I feel at liberty to tell. You must interview Fabrice, 
or Sir Felix, on that subject.” 

Mr. Horton laughed. “ Well, well !” he said, “I won’t 
press the subject. By the bye, did you notice Janet Marshall 
last night ?” 

“ I noticed that her movements were rather languid, and 
her voice, in one or two places, not quite up to the mark. Fa- 
brice spoke of it. She’s quite interested in Janet.” 

“I’m anxious about that girl; I’m really anxious. If I 
had known when I brought her over — 

“ Has anything happened ?” Madam asked. 

“ Oh, only the usual thing. Traverse told it to me the day 
after we landed. I wish it had been the day before we 
sailed !” 

“ May I know what it is ?” 

“ Oh, it is only the old story. It seems that she has left a 
sweetheart playing in the provinces. They had quarrelled 
when she signed with me. Now she learns that he’s going out 
to Australia with Noble’s ^ Merrymakers.’ They were to have 
been married and gone out together. He has written to her, 
and wants her to join him, and she’s pining after him. That’s 


178 


A LOST WITNESS. 


the long and short of it. The trouble, and the cold she caught 
on the boat, moving about when she ought to have been in her 
berth, has already told on her. I’m afraid of her breaking 
down.” 

Poor girl,” sighed Madam. 

Poor girl, yes. I’m human — if I don’t often get credit for it. 
I’m sorry for her, of course. But what, if she breaks down or le- 
vants ? There’s no telling what a love-struck woman will do.” 

True,” said Madam, in a tone that he did not quite un- 
derstand. 

And then, there’s the ^ Two Sweethearts.’ Such a comedy 
as that — and what becomes of it if Janet breaks down ? Who 
can play the rival to Fabrice, or rather, who can look it ? 
Such a perfect contrast, sucli a j)erfect foil — ” He broke off sud- 
denly and looked fixedly at Madam. 

Do you know Hortense Novalis?” he asked. 

Madam started. I have not the honor,” she replied, coldly. 

Oh, all the women freeze at the sound of her name,” he 
said, irritably. She’s a good actress.” 

So I have heard.” 

“ And a deuced handsome woman.” 

Don’t use strong language, Mr. Horton. Yes, she cer- 
tainly is handsome.” 

He fidgeted with the flowers he still held. 

Does Fabrice know her?” he asked. 

Really, I think that Fabrice has seen Miss or M’lle Nov- 
alis,” she answered, evasively. 

Again he sniffed at the flowers and seemed to meditate. 

You know she is in New York ?” 

You mean the Novalis?” 

“ Of course.” 


DIPLOMACY. 


179 


I have seen the fact mentioned in the newspapers, and I 
have seen the person in tlie Park.’’ 

^‘1 was thinking,” he said, as if feeling his way, that if 
Janet does fail ns, the Novalis woidj fill her place admirably, 
if she conld be got. Heavens, what a pair they would make !” 

Silence upon the pai t of Madam. 

“ 'I wish,” he said, that you would tell me what you 
think.” 

Aboutsubstituting Hortense Novalis for Janet Marshall ?” 

Yes.” 

I think you would have to substitute some one for Fabrice 
also. I have heard Fabrice express herself upon the subject. 
She would not play with Novalis.” 

And why?” 

‘‘Ask her, Mr. Horton.” 

Another silence. Then he said in a much milder tone : 

“ I happened to hear that Hortense Novalis wishes to appear 
upon the boards here — and I have been sounding a little. If 
she opens under some rival management, it will make warm 
times for us. There’s plenty of money behind her.” 

“ Whose ?” Madam sat erect and folded her arms in her 
lap — a sure sign that she was keenly interested. 

He shrugged his shoulders. 

“ He’s not a professional,” he said. “ The fact is. I’ve been 
interviewed by her agent ; I suppose I may call him that. 
I won’t mention names. It was confidential. She, the Nov- 
alis, has in some way got wind of the new comedy, and the 
rival parts. She wants to appear with Fabrice. It would 
make a strong cast.” 

“ Fabrice will not consent.” 

He got up and put down the bouquet. “ Well, I’ve said my 


180 


A LOST WITNESS. 


say. You need not speak of this to La Belle — but the fact is, 
Pve just received a note from Novalis. She asks me to call 
upon her.^^ 

Where asked the wily Madam. 

At her apartments, on Lexington Avenue.” 

And you are going, of course ?” 

I am going — now. She fixes the time in her note. If she 
appears at a rival house, I shaif t like it. I^m going to try and 
stop the game in some way.” 

If Frederick Quinlan is behind the scenes,” said Madam, 
rising, yon won’t stop it.” 

He turned upon her a look of surprise, then laughed. 

Well,” he said, I see you’re posted. Yes, Quinlan is the 
man.” 


CHAPTER XXIY. 

HORTENSE. 

When Manager Horton presented himself before Hortense 
Novalis, he found her alone in a suite of apartments gorgeous 
to excess, glowing with tropical color, heavy with perfume, and 
everywhere, in careless and costly profusion, were scattered 
rare specimens of Oriental art — curios, tapestries, carvings, 
fans ; while in their midst, reclined the mistress of all, her- 
self gorgeous in a Japanese robe, stiff and gleaming with em- 
broideries. 


IIOPvTENSE. 


181 


She half arose to receive him, and then dropped back again 
among her cushions ; a pet dog was nestling beside her, a par- 
rot swung and grumbled in a gilded cage upon the floor at 
her feet. Clearly, all was unconventional here. 

Hortense Novalis, at home, was not one whit less beautiful 
than in the ride or drive, and she was far more dangerous — 
a royal brunette, her face aglow with olive and pomegranate, 
her lips full, curved and scarlet, her eyes blacker than dark- 
ness, softer than velvet. She spoke with an accent which was 
not French nor Spanish nor Italian ; and which Horton, being 
a cosmopolitan, readily guessed to have been acquired, built 
upon natural foundation of American-English.” 

She was a beautiful, but not a subtle creature — born to be- 
guile rather than to convince. They talked for an hour — she 
with charming smiles, with soft laughter that displayed the 
loveliest of little white teeth, with pretty pouts and charming 
cajolery. But out of it, the veteran Manager came unscathed ; 
he knew her and her wishes and purposes thoroughly ; she 
by no means was so certain of his meaning. 

He had been charmed, of course, and he had flattered her ; 
men always did. But did he mean to place her upon the stage 
by the side of La Belle Fabrice, or did he not ? 

Not long after the departure of Manager Horton, Hortense 
received another visitor. He came in breezily and without 
ceremony, and, sitting down beside her upon the cushions, took 
her brown Anger tips between his own aristocratic hands. 

Well, my princess he said, inquiringly. 

I donT know about the ^ well,’ Mr. Frederick,” she pout- 
ed. He came.” 

And you saw him and conquered, of course ?” 

I’m not so sure, sir. The old thing is cunning, and bound 


182 


A LOST WITNESS. 


to Stick by his La Belle Fabiice. Bah ! I don't believe she 
can act I" 

“Yes? But she can, my dear; she can ai’t charmingly. 
You had better go tonight and see for yourself." 

“I won't," petulantly. “I won't; there. Do you know, 
Fred, I couldn't make him promise to let me read the new 
play." 

“Obdurate man! Let me suggest something. The new 
play is probably the property of La Belle Fabrice." 

“ La Belle Fabrice ! It's always La Belle Fabrice ! Who 
have you seen, Frederick ?" 

“ Several. Yon can have the 0[)era House next month, if 
you like. Organize a new company, and set up in opposition 
to La Belle Fabrice." 

“ I don't want that. It would be work. I'll wait a little. 
I'm sure you can bring him to terms, Fred." 

“ Wlio, Horton ? Not so easily. You mustn't have too 
much faith in me, mv dear. I can buv you a manager if vou 
like, but I won't promise that it shall be Horton." He got 
up and sauntered across the room. 

She pouted, and flung herself back among the cushions, 
watching him furtively through half-closed lids, as he moved 
about fingering the dainty bijouticre in a careless and accus- 
tomed fashion. 

“ If you keep on," he said, finally, putting down an ugly 
piece of Japanese carving with a shrug, “ you will only have 
to open your doors, to open a bazaar." 

He laughed mockingly and began to play with the dog at 
her side. 

“ Virginie says that you are a very fastidious ^ Ameri- 
ca! ne,' " she said, mimicing the accents of her French maid, 


HORTENSE. 


183 


Virginie shoiiu know butter than to comment upon your 
friends and guests/^ he said, sharply. But I must say tiiat I 
do think your tastes are a little barbaric. I sometimes wonder 
at your always faultless costuming when you go abroad.’^ 

Again she laughed carelessly ; evidently, ihis was not her 
tender point. 

That^s all Virginie’s ; she is very strict about my dress- 
ing. If I don’t humor her she won’t stay. She says it would 
ruin her to let me go out glaringly dressed. She almost 
quari'elled with me the other day for wearing a rose or two in 
my habit corsage.” 

Well, she certainly is a necessary evil,” he said, in a tone 
that brought her to a sitting posture, that she might better 
scan his face. Very often in his bantering talks with her, he 
adopted a tone which she found herself at a loss to interpret. 

He came over to her and sat down in a low lounging-chair 
drawn close to her cushions. She pouted prettily and dropped 
^ck in her former easy attitude. * 

Princess,” he began, are you really bent upon making an 
appearance upon the dramatic; stage?” 

You know I am,” she answered. 

Then, why don’t you want to appear on your own stage, 
with your own company?” 

Because.” 

Pshaw ! don’t be a child.” 

Well, don’t ask me, then. I have my reasons, that’s 
enough.” 

Enough for you, perhaps.” He was growing a trifle im- 
j)atient. 

She sat erect so suddenly that the little clog was tumbled upon 
the floor, from which he gathered himself snarling and yelping. 


184 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Well, listen then,’' she cried, [)etulantly. Do you know 
how long 1 have been in New York ? Two months, and more. 
Do you know how I live ? Like a hermit. Oli, yes, I know 
I ride and drive, show my horses and my toilets ; and peo])le 
wonder and admire, and the Newspapers notice me and call me 
the Mysterious Beauty. You like it; and then, you ride 
with me, and trot beside my carriage, on the Avenue. But I 
don’t meet })eople and know people. I never speak to any one, 
while you are bowing and bowing — ” She stopped short ; her 
voice had risen above its usual dulcet tone, and was a trifle 
sharp. 

“ My dear,” he said, softly, but with that slow smile that 
she found it so difficult to understand, and that acted upon her 
like an irritant — my dear, I am always anxious to let my 
friends see you at your best.” 

The shaft fell harmless. She was absorbed with her own 
grievances, and hurried on ; 

And now you want me to try the nunnery act ?” He drew 
up his shoulders and shivered. You want me to pose in the 
opera boxes, and wear all my jewels, and choicest dresses — ” 

Not all the jewels, Hortense. Heaven forbid ! We won’t 
put out the eyes of all New York.” 

Yes, of course, you want me to be talked about now.” 

No, I don’t, my dear.” 

^^Well, my jewels, then, and my dresses.” 

‘^And your charming face, my dear, and your beautiful 
plump shoulders, and statuesque arms, and your glorious eyes. 
Why should I not be proud to let them see you, my princess ? 
You are the most beautiful creature that sun ever lighted on.” 

He leaned toward her as he said this, and he said it sin- 
cerely. He was an ardent lover of all things beautiful, this 


HORTENSE. 


185 


blonde, young cynic sybarite. He was not given to talking of 
himself, or his friendships with women, even to his intimates ; 
only once, after an enthusiastic eulogy upon her beauty, deliv- 
ered between pntfs of smoke, and to a favored listener, Frederick 
Quinlan had said : 

‘‘She is so beautiful and so luxuriously graceful that a man 
might do worse than to take her for life, and adore her and set 
her up for his friends to adore, as he would some rare picture 
or statue — if, like the picture or statue, she were mute. But 
when she speaks — 'much — it is — 

“ What T’ his listener had asked. 

“ A broken statue.” 

Praise was sweet to Hortense Novalis. She leaned forward 
to him and let him take the warm lissom hand. 

“ Do you really want me to go with you, to sit in a stage- 
box and help you make a success for La Belle Fabrice ?” she 
said, with her eyes upon his face. 

“Hortense,” he answered, suddenly holding her eyes with his 
own, “ do you know La Belle Fabrice ?” 

She started and drew away her hand. “How should I ?” 

“ But you do ?” 

She stirred among her cushions uneasily. “ Why do you 
ask me that ?” she said. 

“ Because you speak of her so often, and in such a tone. 
Because, sometimes, you seem to hate her, are jealous of her.” 

“ I’ll tell you,” she said, sitting erect before him. “ Look 
at me ! You say that I am a beautiful woman. You have 
seen me act, and you say that I can act. All over this town 
she is lauded, trumpeted. She is all the fashion, she is being 
invited everywhere. Oh, I know, this morning, and all to- 
day, it has been flowers, and notes, and callers ! Everywhere 


186 


A LOST WITNESS. 


it is Fabrice ! Fabrice !! Fabrice !!! While She was on 

her feet now, and as she sprang up her splendid hair fell upon 
her slioulders, where it unrolled its heavy coils and fell about 
her, looking, at first, not unlike slowly-writhing serpents — at 
last framing her gloriously in rippling jetty richness. ^‘Look 
at me ! Look well ! I am — what you see ! My horses, my 
dresses, my jewels, are fit for a queen. I know that. Well, 
don’t you know that I’d give them all to be in her place, to 
be invited, to be received ! It is not the acting. You know 
that I’m not so fond of study and training. But I can do it. 
You know this, too : Put me on the stage beside your Fabrice, 
and in two days I will be receiving the invitations and the flow- 
ers and the calls. I tell you, all I want is the chance to stand 
beside that girl, to be on a level with her. Then let her win if 
she can ! I want a chance to show her that she has not stepped in- 
to a place that I cannot reach ! What is she that I cannot be ?” 

She dropped again upon the cushions, panting with her own 
vehemence. And he arose and stood before her. She was 
quiet enough now, and, perhaps, a little startled at her own out- 
break. His face was grave, but self-contained, as usual. 

We will leave the question of your reason for wishing to 
outdo La Belle Fabrice where it lies. When and where you 
have known her, and how much you know of her, you will have 
to tell me some day. Just now we will settle this society busi- 
ness. I can’t help you there. Young men don’t often play 
the chaperone in New York, and I never knew one yet who 
played it with success anywhere. La Belle Fabrice lives in a 
severely proper manner, at one of our most exclusive family 
hotels. She is matronized by a member of her company, who 
was a lady before she was an actress. Your invaluable Vir- 
gijiie has put some fine notions into your head, but she can’t 


HORTENSE. 


187 


quite bring herself up to the mark, when it comes to cliaperon- 
age. Society is a little particular about a few things/’ 

Yes, I know it. One must have money, of course ; that’s 
the most, and it buys all the rest. Why can’t it buy a chap- 
erone She ceased speaking and looked up to him, sniiling 
audaciously. If money is lacking,” she said, after a silent 
moment, I’m not exactly poor. If you don’t want to help 
me—” 

“ Nonsense !” It was not an impatient ejactilation ; he 
looked simply bored, as he turned upon his heel and took up 
his hat. 

Shall we consider it settled, then ?” he asked, carelessly. 

You don’t mean to give it up. It won’t do to trifle, you 
know.”. 

I’ll not trifle about this. Yes, it’s settled, with me.” She 
shut her little teeth together. She had anticipated more objec- 
tion, longer and hotter argument, and she did not readily ad- 
just herself to new conditions. 

“ Tlien, of course, it’s settled for me. I saw Van Yoort 
this morning. Next to Horton, he’s the best manager I know, 
and he’s not in harness just now.” 

Why not ?” she asked, quickly. In the midst of the 
season, too.” 

Ill-health, I believe,” replied Quinlan, carelessly. ‘‘Van 
Voort has made a small fortune in the business. If he takes 
you up, it will be a favor for me. By the way, he and Hor- 
ton are very good friends. You want to try Horton first, I 
suppose ?” 

‘^Yes.” 

Very good. I’ll have Van see Horton.” 

Why don’t you see him yourself?” 


188 


A LOST WITNESS. 


‘‘ For the same reason that I don^t manage for you myself, 
and chape7^one you. Yirginie must tell you wiser things, my 
dear ; your ideas are very crude.’’ 

She tossed her handsome head and pouted. He put on his 
hat and walked toward the There he turned. 

“ If you want to come out under Horton,” he said, you’ll 
do well to show yourself in a stage-box, with all your bravery, 
to applaud and to seem pleased.” 

She frowned, and looked down at the rug beneath her slip- 
pered feet. 

“ Wait,” she said, and sat still frowning and biting at her 
under lip. 

He took off his hat, and stood where he had stopped. Pres- 
ently, she looked up, smiled, arose and came toward him. 

Come tonight,” she said. “ We will go. I will do as 
you say.” 

He took her hand and drew her toward him. 

And tomorrow,” she added, with a little laugh, I will 
go and call upon Fabrice.” 

He laughed now in his turn, and she failed to perceive the 
satire in the sound of it. 

A little later, Hortense was talking with the all-wise Vir- 
ginie, — talking volubly, as to an equal. 

I wish you would play the chaperone” she said. 

Ah, if M’lle had only taken my advice — at first. Everv- 
thing would have been so much easier.” 

Yes, yes,” impatiently. But how could I know ? And 
then the bother of it. I didn’t mean to stay, you remember, 
unless—” She stopped, apparently caught by some new 
thought. Virginie, how would my old nuisance do ?” 

What — she?” 


^^DAYS THAT ARE DREAR/’ 189 

“ Yes. She might do if we made her look fine. Eh 
Virginie was a middle-aged woman, with a shrewd eye, and 
a foxy smile. She had spent all of her mature life-time — and 
she had been very mature at sixteen — in abetting intrigues for 
her various mistresses. She was bold, clever, unscrupulous ; 
and she was enthusiastic in the service of her mistress. 

I could make that woman,’’ she said, after a moment of 
reflection — I could make her passable if — if M’lle could make 
her hold her bragging tongue.” 

How could you do your part, Virginie?” 

By making her have white hair ; much of it. It would 
take a week to make her hands fit to be seen, without gloves. 
Then if she would consent to bean invalid — that gives oneso 
much excuse. To go about little and to say little ; to sit in 
rich wraps and shiver — any one might do that.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

DAYS THAT ARE DREAR.” 

Habit sometimes saves us from folly. Polly Cousin had left the 
presence of Mrs. Volney in a whirl of emotions, mentally daz- 
zled, physically dazed. The old prosaic world was changed 
for him, it »vould never be the same again, he thouglit, half 
with ecstasy, half with contempt, as he tossed upon a sleepless 
pillow. 

It never was. 

But, though the old Cousin was to be not quite the old 


190 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Courfiii any more, there was no perceptible change in him as he 
went about his business the next day. He performed his re- 
portorial duties in his usual satisfactory maimer. He held his 
customary counsel with Captain Connors, explained in a satis- 
factory way his non-appearance of the previous night, and 
gave a weeded-out version of his unsatisfactory call upon Ab- 
ner Paget. 

Of Mrs. Volney he scarcely spoke, mentioning her inciden- 
tally, and only as a friend of the family.’’ He omitted to 
mention her courtesy in offering him a seat in her carriage, and 
ignored all after-events as not pertaining to business.” 

But his last thought at night, and his first one in the morn- 
ing, was to find out all he could of Mrs. Sara Volney. 

It was not a difficult task. Mrs. Volney was, or had been, 
a figure in society. Gregory Volney, now almost two years 
dead, had transferred himself and his hopes to the groves of 
Florida some years since. He was the only son of another 
Gregory Volney, who had figured conspicuously in the business 
world of New York, burning out life’s taper at both ends, it 
was said — losing his young wife while their son was an infant, 
and dying, himself, one year before the young man attained his 
majority. 

Young Volney had made a brisk beginning ; too brisk, some 
said. But when he (^ame into his fortune, which was a mod- 
est one, he began to consider the facts that consumption was 
in the family, that his own health had been already impaired, 
iliat he owned some orange-groves in Florida, and that he was 
tired of New York. 

As the result of his reflections, it came about that he went to 
Florida, regained, in a measure, his health, began a new career, 
added to and then multiplied his fortune, went abroad and 


191 


‘‘ DAYS THAT AEE DREAR/^ 

took himself a wife, or took himself a wife and went abroad — 
which it was, was not quite clear — returned to the Sunny 
South, and lived out his days there. 

Volney had one relative in New York, his cousin, Mrs. Tal- 
fourd ; and he paid two or three long visits to the Nortli, 
bringing his fair wife with him. Finally, on account of her 
ill-health, Mrs. Volney passed the larger part of two years in 
New York, under the roof of the Talfourds. And less than a 
year ago, the word reached her that her husband had died sud- 
denly, from the effects of a tarantula bite. The blow to Mrs. 
Volney had been a heavy one, so read Cousin in a pile of last 
years’ Society Items.” She went South, but finding it im- 
possible to remain, sold her estate. Tlien she came back to 
New York, where she opened the long-closed and dismal home 
of her husband’s people, had the fine old house, in part, refitted 
and made habitable, that she might live out her last days” 
— another quotation from the Society columns — where her 
husband had lived his first.” 

And here she had lived very quietly, going nowhere, and re- 
ceiving only a very few dear friends — the Talfourds, father and 
son, a few artistic and literary people, and the usual comple- 
ment of adoring lady friends. Mrs. Talfourd being an invalid, 
and Leah Paget being an intimate, Mrs. Volney’s quiet coup6 
was often seen before the door of both Talfourd and Paget. A 
slight indisposition, and a desire to meet some Southern friends, 
liad induced Mrs. Volney to make a brief visit to the White 
Sulphur Springs. And it was on her return from this visit 
that she had been greeted by the news of Leali’s mysterious dis- 
appearance. 

It has saddened everything,” she said, in her sweet, slow 
voice, to Mrs. Talfourd, on the occasion of her first call. 


192 


A LOST WITNESS. 


feel somehow as if I sliould never come out from under the 
shadow — never be a really glad and happy woman again. 
And Max — I have not yet seen him — how does he bear it?’^ 
Wofully/’ said Max’ mother, shaking her head. 

Poor Cousin Max !” It had always been Cousin Max, 
and Cousin Sara. Poor boy ! Tell him to come and see 
me as soon as it would be any comfort for him to do so. Poor 
Max and poor Leah !” 

Polly Cousin’s first visit to Mrs. Volney was not his last. 
Her anxiety was so evident, and she seemed to him so pathetic 
in her loneliness and her devotion to her lost friend. 

I have done a very bold thing,” she said, when Cousin had 
parted from her that evening. But you see my position ; 
I have felt so anxious and so helpless. If it would not trouble 
you too much, if you could see your way to it without betray- 
ing any trust, without any impropriety, I would be glad to 
have you come and see me now and then, just to tell me any 
little bit of news that you can. I do not ask to be let into 
your secrets. But couldn’t you sometimes give me, as Leah’s 
devoted friend, just a little glimpse of your hopes and opin- 
ions, if nothing more ?” How wistful her face was ! How 
lovely looked the swaying, black-robed figure, standing before 
him. It would be such a friendly act,” she added, and put 
her hand to him appealingly. 

And then — he remembered it afterward ; it was with sur- 
prise at his own daring and supple-minded ness in a situation 
so novml to him — he had taken her hand as easily as she had 
given it, all the chivalry within him aroused by her appar- 
ent need of just the service he could render, and had said, im- 
petuously : 

^^If I can serve you. Madam, I have already promised for 


193 


“ DAYS THAT ARE DREAR.’’ 

myself. It is too much to hope that anything I might do for 
you would entitle me to your friendship.” 

And then — what charmingly daring things a very beautiful 
and innocent woman, ora very beautiful and wily woman, can 
do, and run no risk, and dazzle and charm the man she be- 
seeches or besieges — and then she had let the little hand, 
which he was about to release, lie passive in his grasp, wliile 
she lifted her wistful eyes to his. 

Why ?” And then, before he could stammer a first word : 

Sometimes I think it is too much for me to hope to have 
a disinterested friend, such a friend as I am sure you could be ; 
one who would advise me in need, who would be candid, and 
always tell me the plain truth. Ah, we lonely women are 
cruelly hampered !” 

That was the beginning of a dream for Polly Cousin. Of 
course, he went again and again. 

At first they talked of very little but Leah — and Mrs. Vol- 
ney was not inquisitive. All that he honestly could, he told 
her, and that was all she asked to hear. But after a while 
they spoke in a desultory way of other things — of books and 
pictures, of theatres and of people. And Percy Cousin began 
to feel that this lovely, still, stately woman, with her simple, 
straightforward ways, and her low, slow, sweet utterances, was 
really his friend ; nothing more; he never hoped for that ; 
just his honest, kindly, interested friend. From their first 
meeting he had never sought to deceive himself. There was 
no moment when he would not have died to serv’e her, and not 
one moment when he did not guard his secret jealously, in fear 
that she would read it some day in his eyes or voice, and shut 
him out forever from her gentle, stately presence. 

Those were dreiry d lys t ) Max Talfourd. At his home, 


194 


A LOST WITNESS. 


he went and came as usual. After his first difference with his 
father, he had been minded to take liimself away altogether, to 
live at his club or some hotel. But the gentle influence of 
liis mother prevailed, and he remained at home. By mutual 
consent, the name of Leah Paget was never mentioned in the 
presence of the elder Talfourd, either by wife or son. He 
found much comfort in his mother’s tender sympathy and good 
counsel, and he met, now and then, in her boudoir, Mrs. Pa- 
get, who treated him with an open affection, that came to him, 
at times, cheeringly, almost as a message from his lost love. 

In spite of the differences of the heads of the two houses, the 
two wives and mothers continued, as before, warm friends and 
confidantes ^ — even warmer, closer friends, because of the mis- 
fortune that had cast a shadow on both. 

Sir Felix, too, proved a strong ally to his friend in these 
days, and the two were much together. 

When two weeks had passed and nothing very hopeful iiad 
been accomplished. Max asked his friend to try again, in the 
hope that the famous London detective might have returned 
from abroad. And, by the advice of his mother and Sir Felix, 
he tried to go about a little, and so keep up some small inter- 
est in life. 

Two or three times, in company with Sir Felix, he called 
upon Fabrice, the two always choosing the time when she would 
be least occupied with other callers. And, gradually, under 
the ardent impulsive sympathy oftlie bright little Comedienne, 
and the more moderate but sincere and motherly interest of 
Madam Congreve, he was led to talk of Leah, of the search 
and the successive steps, and of his hopes and fears. 

Taking Sir Felix with him, he made his first call upon Mrs. 
Volney. Afterward, he went oftener, and nearly always with 


HANOVER STREET, LONDON. 


195 


liis friend. These calls helped to feed his Ik )pe and keep alive 
his faith. 

It^s one of the loveliest things in woman/’ he said, one day, 
to Sir Felix — her faith in her own sex. If she’s a good wo- 
man herself, she won’t believe ill of a sister. Your little Fa- 
hrice, now — how stanch she is, and how she reasons ! Why, 
man, if all the world spoke ill of that girl, I’d not believe it, 
Just from the way she believes in Leah.” 

And there’s your cousin,” Sir Felix had added. 

^^Sara? yes. But Sara knows Leah. I never knew Sara 
Volney to speak ill of any one — and it’s my belief that she 
had cause to have said much that was ill of her husband in 
his day. I do not think that her married life was a bed of 
roses. But I never got so much as s word to that effect from 
her, although we’ve always been really good friends.” 

It strikes me,” said Sir Felix, that I’d be almost afraid 
to be too friendly, just for friendship’s sake, with a woman as 
beautiful and as fascinating as Mrs. Volney.” 

Bless you, my boy, there’s nothing of the flirt in Sara 
Volney !— nothing in the world,” said Max. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

HANOVER STREET, LONDON. 

On one of the days when nothing good seemed happening, 
or ever about to happen, to our anxious friends in New York ; 
when Leah Paget had been over two weeks missing, and La 


196 


A LOST WITNFA^. 


Belle Fabrice a week before the adoring public, — two young 
men sat breakfasting together in a luxuriously comfortable 
suite of bachelor apartments in the fashionable iieart of London. 

The hour was somewhat of an early one for London, and 
the men were Lord Louis Barham, and his host, Francis 
Ferrars. 

Upon my word, Ferrars,” said Lord Barham, as he 
glanced out from his seat near a big window, you are not in 
bad quarter-!. Drawing-room floor in Hanover Street’s about 
as good as anything in London, eh? In the season, and with 
such cooking and attendance ! You shouldn’t grumble.” 

I don’t grumble,” responded his host, amiably. Yes, I 
like my quarters, and my landlady. When I come back to 
London, after a run, I am very comfortable here. Have you 
quite finished ?” 

Quite,” said Lord Barham, resting a hand against the ta- 
ble and giving his chair a backward push — a boyish movement, 
which caused Ferrars to smile. 

Then, I’ll send away these things,” he said, “ and we’ll 
talk.” 

I should say we had been talking,” suggested Lord Bar- 
ham. 

Well, we’ll change the subject,” said Ferrars, ^Ho one of 
more interest. In the meantime, cigars, of course.” 

The cigars were produced, and while the servant removed 
the breakfast things, the two lost themselves and obliterated 
each other in shades of tobacco smoke. 

Two young men more opposite in character could not well 
have been imagined ; but, by one of the singular freaks by 
which nature loves to mystify ])oor mortals, they were, exter- 
nally, much alike — alike in height and build, in general out- 


HANOVER STREET, LONDON. 


197 


line and feature, and in their purely English coloring,— ruddy 
hlonde, and in the hue of eyes and hair. Apart, a person 
knowing one and meeting the other, would say at once. 

Strong resemblance to Lord Bariiam, really or, Looks 
very much like my friend Ferrars.’^ 

Together, the resemblance was not so marked, for no two 
faces could have been more unlike in expression. And this un- 
likeness was carried out and made emphatic in their speech 
and manner. 

In the face, the voice, the movements of Ferrars were embodied 
strength of character, force, a mighty will, body and muscles 
under perfect control. His face was habitually grave, though 
his smile, when it came, was singularly sweet and boyish. 
His eyes were very alert, unobtrusively observant. His man- 
ner was quiet; his movement direct. He had no superfluity 
of word and gesture. 

Lord Louis Bai hain, on the other hand, was a smiling 
man,’’ a voluble talker, and overflowing with unnecessary ac- 
tivity. Not the rapid niovemcMits of the busy man, but the slow 
constant going of the pleasure-huiiter. 

Lord Louis was one of those fortunate unfortunates who have 
nothing to do but sustain a position in a very indulgent woi ld 
of fashion, rendered more indulgent because of his ample in- 
come and ampler ancestry. He was amiable and indolent to a 
fault, generous in the same proportion, with few bad habits, and 
no pronounced views ; fond of obliging his friends when he could 
do it without too much personal effort ; and very fond of fol- 
lowing a leader of his own selection, and of being agreeably 
entertained. 

That this young nobleman was a warm friend and glowing 
admirer of Francis Ferrars, was a part of his wisdom, for Fer- 


19S 


A Lost witness. 


rai’s was not of the fasliional)le world. Society knew him not. 
Instead, he was a young man whose only estate’’ lay in his 
large, well-shaped head, or had, in the beginning. But this 
estate he had cultivated to such advantage that it yielded him 
large profits; and there were few young men in London who, 
as a man among men, held a more enviable place. 

The question Who is Ferrars ?” had ceased to be asked, 
for it was well known that his past was a sealed book. He 
was said to have noble blood in his veins — and looking at the 
man, it was not difficult to so believe. He was known to have 
lived, from early childhood, as a ward to an unknown guardian, 
and to have had always a moderate income. He had chosen 
the law as a profession, so it was said, but had suddenly aban- 
doned it and entered the Secret Service. Here his success had 
been marvelous. He had proven himself one of the few great 
detectives, a master of a dangerous calling, who was born with 
a genius for the work, and who added to his birthright, cul- 
tivation and experience. 

Already he had seen two years of service at Scotland Yards, 
and now he had been, for more than a year past, unconnected 
with any agency, after refusing positions of trust and emolument 
in a department wherein he had well served. 

Ferrat s had earned a reputation for being odd,” and one 
of his oddities was to live as he pleased, and to accept 
only such cases as he found sufficiently complicated and inter- 
esting. It was while operating such a case that Ferrars had 
begun and cemented a friendship with Lord Louis Barham 
and Sir Felix Wyntouu, which had proved warm and last- 
ing. 

And now,” said Ferrars, when they were finally alone, 
about Sir Felix and his mystery.” 


IIAXOVER STREET, LONDON. 


199 


Lord Barluun produced from Ids pocket a thin 
huiidle of letters and telegrams, and placed them upon the 
table. I here you are,’^ he said, slipping off the rubber band 
iliat held them, and beginning to tumble them over. Here’s 
the first telegram — when you were in Germany, and here’s 
tue next. There^s the one asking for your address, and the 
others, sort of repeating themselves. Young fellah’s been get- 
ting into business over theie in ’Merica, should say.” 

It looks like it.” 

Ya’as. There’s the explanatory letter ; tells all about the 
missing young lady, and his friend, who is her j^ance. Don’t 
mention any names, though.” He pushed the letter across 
the table to Ferrars. You’d better read for yourself.” 

It’s probably much like my own,” said Ferrars; but he 
took it up and read every word. When he had returned it to 
Lord Louis he pondered a moment. It’s plain that Sir 
Felix is deeply interested,” he said, at last. 

Yes ; clear enough. Didn’t think he would get into the 
detective business quite so quick. Knew he always had a 
hankering after your mantle, though. Fancy it ! He’d make 
just about as good a one — as — as I would.” He laughed, and 
Ferrars joined him. 

“ His little plan, though,” went on Lord Louis, ‘‘ wasn’t so 
bad. Wondah if he weally did invent that all by himself.” 

I’ll read you what he says in his letter to me on that 
point,” said Ferrars. He produced a Ltter, the fellow to the 
one in Lord Barham’s hand, and read aloud the part referred 
to : ^ We have discussed this matter, my friend and I, and I 

am sure this is our only chance of success. The New York 
Police are certainly efficient, but this matter is out of their 
line. The missing young woman is not one of the sort they 


200 


A LOST WITNESS. 


are used to dealing with. The person and the motive, taking 
the ground that lier absence is voluntary, is not t)f the common 
sort, yet they are applying to an uncommon case their common 
metliods. On the other hand, the crime, if there is a crime, 
is not a thing formulated and carried out among criminals 
of the common type. Every station of low life is laid open 
to ihe averai>:e detective. What this case needs is a de- 
tective who can lay open some of the secret places of high life, 
so called ; one who has studied his aristocratic criminal as the 
average detective studies the criminal of the slums. For I be- 
lieve there has been a crime, and that it is the crime of an aris- 
tocrat.’^ 

^^Oh!” ejaculated Lord Barham. ’Merica is certainly 
sharpening the wits of that scion.” 

Sir Felix is nothing if he is not frank,” said Ferrars. 

This is how he ends his explanation — ‘ Perhaps you may 
begin to feel alarmed at my suddenly-developed wisdom, and so 
I will confess that it is not all mine. It is the combined 
result of three heads, two of them belonging to the gentler Hex, 
I know you think much of a woman’s intuition, and the best 
that I have set forth here is the intuition of two clear-headed, 
thoughtful, and uni)rejndiced women.” 

He laid down the letter and looked across at Lord Barham, 

What do you think of it?” that young man asked, a broad 
smile wreathing his lips. 

It’s a very daring suggestion, if you mean tlnit. As to 
his theories, th'-re may be something in them. A case that so 
baffles the New York Police must have somethiinr in it.” 

I see ho' it is. You want to go, Ferrars.” 

I mean to go,” said Ferrars. I have nothing to hold me 
back. And besides. Sir Felix asks this as a per.-onal fa'u-)rj 


Hanover street, London. 


201 


a grent favor. Even if the case were less interesting, l\i go 
for Sir Felix’ suke.’^ 

And yoifll trv — 

Ferrars made a sudden movement. 

Understand,’^ he said, I go regardless. Tliis wild no- 
tion of his is only a suggestion,” 

Aw, bothah I” ejaculated Lord Barham, throwing down his 
cigar and sitting bolt upright. Look here, Ferrars, I’m per- 
fectly willing to carry out this thing. I’m more than will- 
ing. Nothing but my abominable fear of the ocean has kept 
me from visiting ’Merica. I don’t care a rap for ’Merica, un- 
derstand, but a fellah don’t want to be laughed at. You know 
I’ve wanted to get in aqtiiet month or two in Scotland.” He 
flushed rosily, and Ferrars smiled. I’m perfectly willing to 
leave my reputation in your hands. I don’t s’pose you want 
my purse ?” 

« Hardly.” 

Then call the thing settled. All I a»k is a fair and square 
account when all’s done. By Jove, you know, when I come 
to think of it, it’s the rummest plant I’ve heard of for many a 
day.” He got up in his enthusiasm and stood before Ferrars. 
^‘Yes, sir! I’m awfully glad that I’m in a position to help 
you, and no questions asked. Go ahead, my boy, and as quick 
as you please. I give you carte blanche and my blessing.” 

He held out his hand, still smiling broadly ; but Ferrars 
took it in grave silence. 

It’s very good of you,” he said, presently. But nothing 
will be decided upon until I am on the ground. I’ll then 
communicate with you at once. Ail this may be unnecessary.” 


202 


A LOST WITNEJSS. 


CHAPTER XXVTL 

CONSPIRATORS. 

The (lay that followed the first triumphal ones of her debuts 
were strange days, some of them, anc not altogether pleasant 
days, for La Belle Fabrice. 

There was no abatement of lier triumph, on or off the stage. 
She was applauded, petted, sought after, besieged. And al- 
ways, everywhere, where there were strange eyes to see her, a 
public to be gratifi(‘(l, a dinner, a reception, a group of callers, — on 
the avenues, at the ride or drive. La Belle Fabrice was the love- 
liest, the blithest, the most piquant creature possible. She was 
always moving in these days, and Sir Felix, the most devoted 
of cavaliers, was always at her disposal. He made no secret of 
his adoration. He had come to America solely for the sake of 
Fabrice, and he made no pretense for caring for anything in 
America. 

To have Fabrice, society soon grew to understand, meant to 
have Sir Felix also. And society was well pleased. 

Another person who congratnlated hims^df upon this fact, 
was Manager Horton. His joy took for its basis the sordid 
commercial point of view. Xo amount of advertising could 
have given his little Star so great a ^^boom’’ in the smiles of 
the very elect, as did this open and vigorous siege of Sir Fe- 
lix Wyntoun. It lifted her above her profession as nothing 
else could have done. It was the crowning feature of her 
social triumph, and that included all the rest. 


CONSPIRATORS. 


203 


As for Fabrice, she had abandoned herself, for the time, to 
the current. Sir Felix had acted so bravely upon his new res- 
olution ; he was so kind, so full of tact and watchfulness, so 
ready^ so bright and winning, that she let lierself delight in 
his society without regard for the future. 

But there were moments when Fabrice was not so gay. 

It’s against my rigid determination,” said Madam Con- 
greve to Sir Felix, one day when they found themselves tete- 
d-Ute, ‘‘ but I am not yet at ease about her. 1 mean, of course, 
Fabrice.” 

Sir Felix nodded. 

After she wrote that letter of which I told you, she seemed, 
for a few days, like her old self. But of late — ” She sto])])ed, 
and looked undecided. 

“Of late?” repeated Sir Felix. 

“ I really don’t know my own mind any more,” Madam ex- 
claimed. I say that I will not talk Fabrice with you, and 
then I come straight to you with all my uneasiness about — I 
don’t know what.” 

“ But it is uneasiness.” He got up and stood before her. 
“ Madam, let us understand each other. Our friend is, we 
fear, in ti’ouble, and we both want to aid her. Both are her 
friends. So long as you are not sure, and are still uneasy, you 
ought to tell me all that you think or fear. Let ns droj) this 
nonsense, and boldly conspire together to serv’e and help Fa- 
brice, in any way, in all ways, whether she will or not. Har- 
den your kind heart and be frank with me. The end justifies 
the means. And you can trust me.” 

“1 should think so !” She arose with a gesture as of one 
who pushes an obstacle from her path. '' What an excellent 
thing a little good sense and plain speaking is !” she exclaimed. 


204 


A LOST WITNESS. 


and put out her hand to him. Tin glad that you possess th(‘ 
good sense; I believe this is just what I have been wanting. 
I love Fabrice — 

So do ruefully. 

And I trust you. There, Fm going lo reverse our posi- 
tions. Sit down here, nearer my window — I doift like to 
leave too much to Janive^s honesty.’^ 

Is Janive an eavesdropper?^’ 

Janive is devoted to her mistress. I don’t know what else 
she is.” 

And then she told him of Fabrice at home, — of her fitful- 
ness, of her lapses from gay to grave ; how eagerly she 
watched for letters, fluttering and restless until they came, ex- 
cited when they were in her hands, growing pale, dull, and list- 
less when she htul glanced at them all, and that f )r which she 
seemed to look was not among them. 

There is some one she is longing to hear from,” concluded 
dam. Probably the person to whom she wrote after her 
faint that day.” 

Sir Felix sighed heavily. The role he had chosen for him- 
self was a difficult one. 

It is whispered at the Club,” he said, after a long silence, 
that Hortense Novalis is about to make her debut in New 
A^>rk.” 

Madam started and looked vexed. 

“ That’s the other thing that troubles me,” she said. Tell 
me all that you have heard.” 

That is really all,” he said, except — ^}'es, there were some 
absurd hints that there was a rivalry, jealousy, between her 


CONSPlliATORS; 


205 


Yes. I can’t fancy how such whispers get about.” 

I can. Do you really know so little of this Novalis ?” 

^^You will please to remember that of late I have seen very 
few people except in company with yourself or M’lle Fa- 
brice.” 

Don’t say M’lle, at least do not let her hear you apply 
the French to her. It’s the most absurd thing, her appearing 
upon the bills as an English actress and under a French* name. 
Tile title was none of her choice. She was La Belle before 
she knew it.” 

Yes. I know how these things come about. But tell me, 
is .-he Engli.^^h ?” 

You mu.st ask her that question, Sir Felix. I was about 
to speak of Hortense Novalis. She wishes not only to appear 
upon the boards here, but she wants to appear with Fabrice.” 

With Fabrice !” he cried ; impossible !” 

Well, I have Manager Horton’s word for it. I don’t 
know all, but I know that a steady prt'ssure is being brought 
to bear upon Fabrice. I can tell you these things, but not 
the results thereof. Mr. Horton has held three stormy inter- 
views with Fabrice alone. She has told me nothing, but I 
am positive that it was about Horten.se Novalis. They are 
disagreeing.” 

Tins is too bad !” sighed Sir Felix. 

Yes, but wait. Hortense Novalls has called twice to see 
Fabrice. Tlie first time Fabrice refused t() receive her.” 

Ah !” 

But the second time she was admitted, and Fabrice spoke 
with her for, perhaps, ten minutes. She told me nothing of 
their interview, but she looked very serious and resolute all 
that day, as if she were holding herself agtunst a siege.” 


206 


A LOST \V^1TNESS. 


Poor girl ! And she woii^t listen to us, won’t let ns help 
her r 

No. There is another fact. Mr. Frederick Quinlan has 
ceased his calls upon Fabrice, altogether.” 

What, voluntarily ?” Sir Felix did not look seriously 
grieved at this infbrniation. 

I hardly think so,” smiled Madam. She has tabooed 
him, along with Hortense Novalis.” 

I — I don’t quite understand.” 

Madam glanced at him shar})ly. 

Do you mean to tell me that you don’t know — that you 
haven’t heard his name coupled with that of Hortense Nov- 
alis?” 

If I have,” he said, return iug her look iu kind, I have not 
given it a second thought. I have supposed Mr. Quinlan to be 
an ardent admirer of Fabrice, and a little too much in earnest.” 

Madam laughed. I don’t pretend to understand it,” she 
said. Your supposition was undoubtedly true.” 

Was ?” 

Madam laughed again. I can’t discuss so delicate a 
point.” 

You must remember,'” he said, then, that my time has 
been, as you may say, divided. Nearly all luy time that you 
could not give an account of, I have passed with my friend 
Talfourd.” 

Yes, yes ! And what of that strange case? is there any 
news ?” 

Nothing very satisfactory. 

How strange ! And the police really at work ?’ 

‘^They are indeed working faithfully. It’s a most uncom- 
mon case.” 


OVERBURDENED. 


207 


Do you know/’ said Madam, gravely, ^^tliat I am some- 
times glad to have this case of Leah Paget’s discussed among 
us. Fabrice is deeply interested in it. Every particular tliat 
you bring here, or that she gets out of Mr. Talfourd, seems to 
interest her so ; to take her out of herself, as you might say. 
And she talks it all over with me when you are gone. Did 
she tell you that we have had a call from Talfourd peref^ 
^^No. Has Mr. Talfourd really called, then ? Iknow he 
admires her acting. May I ask — ” 

About his call? It was three days ago, I think. He 
stayed a very long time. He began by talking of herself and 
her art, of course — but he ended by talking of his son and 
Leah Paget.” 

Could you guess at his object, if he had one?” 

I think he had an object. I think — ” 

Madam checked herself suddenly. She had heard the door 
beyond t\\Q portiere flung open, and in another instant Fabrice 
appeared between the parted curtains, her face flushed, her eyes 
gleaming with excitement — a letter in her hand. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

OVERBURDENED. 

As Fabrice came hastily forward to greet Sir Felix, the let- 
ter fell from her nervous fingers, directly at the feet of Madam 
Congreve. 

The lady picked it up and gave it back with a careless, un- 


208 


A LOST VV^ITNESS. 


observant air. .Bui wlieii, in a inonient, Fabrice made li6r ex- 
cuses and left them for a time, she turned to Sir Felix, with a 
perplexed face. 

“ Something has happened/^ .'^he sahl. She seems unusu- 
ally excited, don’t you thiidv ?” 

I thought she seemed unusually elated.” 

Madam considered a moment. Perhaps you are right. 
Yes, I think you are. But that letter — I did not see the name 
upon it, or rather, I did not read it. But I know what it is.” 

The name?” 

No ; the letter. It’s the ojie she wrote that day, using 
the envelope of the hotel ; don’t yon remember ? It’s the same 
letter. I saw enough to be sure of that.” 

The same letter !” repeated the young Englishman, be- 
wildered. I — I don’t understand.” 

It’s her letter— the one she wrote and posted — returned to 
her.” 

When Fabrice rejoined them, there was a new look on her 
fa(re, — a look of, animation, — a look, Sir Felix thought, of re- 
newed hope. She was eager and restless, and, presently, she 
broke in upon some long sentence, with an apologetic little ges- 
ture. 

Pardon me. Sir Felix, do you know the name and address 
of any good, trustworthy lawyer, hete ?” 

Sir Felix could not quit(‘ suppress his surprise at the ques- 
tion, but he answered prom})tly : 

“ I met, yesterday, in Talfonrd’s library, a legal gentleman, 
who had dropped in upon some business; an elderly, and, I 
thought, a very kindly man. He is the Talfourd.>’ family ad- 
viser. I talkeil with him a little, and he gave me his card.” 

You have it with you?” 


OVERBURDENED. 


209 


I haven’t it with me, but I can give you his name. I took 
note of him because I fancied I should like to ask of him, 
some day, a little information concerning the laws of this big 
town, and the country as well. Mr. Talfourd, senior, recom- 
mended him to me as a man worth knowing.” 

And his name ?” again asked Fabrice. 

Yes; pardon me. It’s a Mr. Clarkson. His rooms are 
on Greenwich Avenue — sorry I can’t recall the number — near 
the Jefferson Market Court.” 

That can be easily found.” Fabrice was upon her feet. 

Sir Felix, I want to see this lawyer, just for a brief consul- 
tation. May I trouble you — ” 

As she faltered, and finally stopped. Sir Felix arose also. 

To go with you ?” he asked, eagerly. May I ?” 

Will you introduce me to hitn? I would be so grateful. 
Can you go with me now, at once ?” 

I am at your se rvice, now and always,” he said, with eager 
gallantry. Shall I call a carriage? How soon will you be 
ready ?” 

Madam Congreve had not been long alone when another vis- 
itor was announced. This time it was Manager Horton. 

Fabrice has just gone out with Sir Felix,” she explained. 
And then, as he continued to stare hard at her, she fell into his 
mood. Something has happened. What is it?” 

He changed his seat, taking one nearer her own. 

How mucli influence have you over Fabrice ?” he began, 
abruptly. 

Very little, I am beginning to think.” 

^Umph ! Do you know hor reasons for refusing to have 
anything to do with Hortense Novalis ?” 


210 


A LOST WITNESS. 


I can’t help you to Fabrice’s reasons/’ slie said, in a tone 
which he understood. Are you going to tell me what has 
occurred ?” 

^‘ Tliat’s what I came for. For a beginning, Janet Mar- 
shall has broken down.” 

“ Poor girl ; I must go to see her.” 

Well, don’t go just yet/’ he said, testily. I have just 
had a long call from Van Voort.” 

Who is Van Voort?” 

Van Voort, of the Grand ; Van Voort, the veteran.” 

Surely ! Yes, the Impressario.” 

Well,” said he, gloomily, he is going to take up the 
Novalis.” 

He !” She started. That means opposition to Fabrice. 
It means — Quinlan.” 

I don’t know what it means, and don’t care. The fact is 
enouo^h for me. I’m convinced he’s in earnest. And that 
means a big loss, to me.” 

Then he plunged into a highly-flavored and very energetic 
statement of the case. 

Now, don’t you see,” he said, in conclusion, that if Fa- 
brice will consent to give Hortense the rival part in the 
^Sweethearts,’ everytliing will be settled. Janet’s place will 
be filled, and Fabrice and Hortense together will make an im- 
mense team. If she refuses, they will open the other house, 
and we will have strong rivalry. There isn’t an actress in 
the city, or anywhere else, that can fill Janet’s iJace, except 
Hortense, without letting the part down. There’s no one 
strong enough to take the part without weakening it. And 
that means to kill the play. Hortense looks the part.” 

I doubt if she plays it as well as poor Janet.” 


OVERBURDENED. 


211 


So do I. But she’ll draw, if she doesn’t play it half as 
well. She — she’s been very cleverly advertised.” 

I should think so ! Quite too cleverly,” said Madam, 
with inarkeii disgust. 

Oh, don’t let us have any of that. Will you talk with Fa- 
brice ?” 

I’ll tell her what you have said. But you’d much better 
talk with her yourself. Doesn’t it strike you that it’s a little 
strange that this woman, who can command her own manager, 
her own theatre, and her own audience, should be so bent upon 
playing a secondary part in Fabrice’s j)lay ?” 

I’ll tell you what Van Voort hinted to me. We’re very 
good friends. Van Voort and I, and he doesn’t conceal the fact 
that he’s been offered big inducements. He says that Novalis 
prefers to play with Fabrice, and his idea is that she hopes by 
so doing to get the run of society, ns Fabrice has done. I’ve 
talked with Plortense, however, and I say frankly that there’s 
a mystery behind it all. She says she doesn’t know Fabrice, 
and yet she hates her.” 

Well,” said Madam, with a sigh, I don’t understand all 
this, but it’s my belief Fabrice won’t hear of it.” 

If she won’t,” said her Manager, she’ll make me the loser 
by fifty thousand dollars.” 

True to her promise, Madam put the case to Fabrice, as it 
had been put to her. And, true to her predictions, Fabrice 
shook her head. 

I’ll give up my contract at any moment,” she said, wearily. 

I’d be glad to do it. But play upon the same boards with 
Hortense Novalis? I wdll not !” 

According to her arrangement with Frederick Quinlan, 
Hortense Novalis had appeared in his company that night, in 


212 


A LOST WITNESS. 


a proscenium box, and looked on while Fabrice sung and 
laughed, smiled and pirouetted, and charmed her audience, as 
she could so well. 

And if Fabrice had showed herself equal to the occasion, by 
seeming quite unconscious of the dashing brunette, Hortense 
had shown herself really an able actress by her conduct 
throughout the evening. Possibly her manner was expected 
to have its effect upon Fabrice, as weil as upon her audience, 
for Hortense was all smiling admiration, applauding at the 
right moment, with great enthusiasm, and finally leaning over 
the cushioned rail and flinging at Fabrice’s feet a splendid 
bouquet, which had been conspicuous in her hands throughout 
the evening. 

And here Fabrice had her opportunity. Bowing before the 
audience, her arms filled with flowers, the little Comedienne 
had started back apace as the bouquet struck the stage so near 
her feet, and seemed to check an involuntary glance upward. 
Then, with a beaming smile, she had freed one hand, by trans- 
ferring its burden of bloom to the opposite arm, stoo})ed, caught 
up tlie bouquet, pressed it to her cheek with a dainty gesture, and 
then, lifting her face to the balcony boxes, swept it with a 
bright glaiice, as if she were looking for the donor there. Then 
she bowed low once more, and without a single glance in the 
direction of the box where sat Hortense and her escort, tripped 
from the stage. 

Tell me how I could have done otherwise ?’’ said Fabrice, 
in her dressing-room, to Madam Congreve. ‘^It was a chal- 
lenge. Thrown as it was, I had to see it. If I had ignored it, 
the slight would have been patent to all the house. The whole 
thing was made as conspicuous as possible. If I had not taken 
it up, the thing would have been exploited in the newspapers 


OVERBURDENED. 


213 


tomorrow. As it was, nobody is the wiser, except the lady and 
her escort, and our two or three f'riends.^^ 

I can easily see what is coming, my dear/^ said Madam, re- 
gretfully. It is going to be said that you are jealous of Hor- 
tense Novalis.’’ 

Fabrice looked annoyed. 

I suppose so,'^ she said, gloomily. Conny, Vd give half 
I possess never to set niy foot upon this stage again. IVe a 
mind to fall sick. Janet has been my understudy, and I think 
she might rally if slie were given a leading part.^^ 

Don’t talk nonsense, child.” 

Then stop talking about Hortense Novalis,” the girl cried. 

Between you, you are making my life a burden !” 

Early the next morning, a scavenger found in the alley just 
underneath La Belle Fa hr ice’s dressing-room window, a splen- 
did bouquet of hot-house roses. 

The first a]>})earance of Horteiise Novalis in the ])i’oscen- 
ium box was not her last. She came the next night, and the 
next, and always she was smiling and ready with her applause. 
Sometimes Frederick Quinlan was beside her, and sometimes 
she came alone, or with only an attendant, who sat in the 
shadow. 

Upon the last night of her appearance, she was accompanied 
by a woman, — a smnll elderly woman, with very white hair, 
arranged in elaborate puffs, and crowned with a fanciful com- 
bination of ribbon and lace ; with a gorgeous befringed wrap 
about her shoulders; with her dark face well powdered, and 
her beady black eyes half concealed behind gold-rimmed eye- 
glasses. 

At sight of this woman, Fabrice, in the midst of a passion- 
ate lu vc-aong, started^ and then, controlling herself by an effort. 


214 


A LOST WITNESS. 


waited for a chance to pass near the box. Yes, she was not 
mistaken. The woman, who was evidently in the capacity of 
chaperone to Hortense Novalis, was easily recognized. 

My dear/^ said Madam Congreve, as they were rolling 
homeward in their carriage that night, did you observe the 
woman in the box with the Novalis?” 

I did,” said Fabrice. 

And did you recognize her ?” 

Did you ?” parried the girl. 

I recognized her ; yes. I recognized in that bewigged 
and befringed old woman, your soiled and shabby blackmailer 
of not long since.” 

Fabrice was silent. 

I can’t fancy what all this means, my dear,” Madam went 
on, kindly. But it makes me very anxious. If there is 
anything that connects you with that woman Novalis, you 
will need help sooner or later.” 

It had been a long and harrassing week f )r Fabrice. She 
was weary and sore at heart, and the kind words of her friend 
were as the last straws to her already almost unbearable bur- 
den. She threw out her arms in a gesture of utter weakness 
and abandonment of grief. 

I may need help,” she said, in a stifled voice. Oh, I 
do need help ; I need it sorely. I have needed it long, I may 
need it yet more ; but if I do, if I come to worse straits,” — it 
seemed to Madam that she was speaking through tightly shut 
teeth — so too will Hortense Novalis.” 


SUREENDEE. 


^16 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

SURRENDER. 

The constant drip, drip, of watm* wears out a stone, and La 
Belle Fabrice was only a woman, and a woman fast growing 
weak through her own despair, during the two weeks that fol- 
lowed the scene last mirrated. Yet she went and came, in the 
sight of the world and her public, as usual. But those who 
loved her most saw the change growing in her. 

Alone with Madam Congreve, she was quiet and reserved, 
but she avoided tete-di-Utes. She seemed, also, to dislike being 
quite alone. 

With Sir Felix she was her best self. She never avoided 
him now. She talked with him freely ; she let him take her 
wherever he would. 

Madam Congreve noted that she no longer watched for her 
letters, or took interest in them when they came. And Sir 
Felix observed that after her first call upon Lawyer Clarkson, 
she did not speak of him or visit him again. 

One day, as they were riding slowly in the Park, he ventured 
upon a remonstrance. 

“ Will you let me say something about yourself he asked, 
gently, looking down at her quiet, wearied face, from which 
the smile had altogether faded. Only about yourself, mind.^^ 

What is it?’^ she asked, rousing herself. 

You are wearing yourself out trying to opj)ose your man- 
ager and his wishes in regard to Mademoiselle Novalis. Why 
do you do it?^’ 


‘216 


A LOBT WITNESS. 


What she looked up at him quickly. “ Would you ad^ 
vhe me to — She stopped suddeuly, flushing painfully, and 
turned away her face. 

Will you h t me advise you he asked, eagerly. “ Will 
you listen to me 

^‘Goon,’’ she said, her face still turned away. 

‘^You will pardon me, but I have heard much of this 
thing; more, perhaps, than you think. I have heard of it 
from your manager, from Madam, from Quinlan, and at the 
clubs. I doift know this woman, but they say she has really 
been at actress. Il’ I were you, I would take a purely busi- 
ness view of this matter. A man does not allow a personal 
prejudice to harm his business prospects. Why should you? 
Your position, both as an artiste and as a lady, is secured. This 
woman can really do no more iiarm than can any of the others 
of your company, and you douT fear them,’’ 

I am not afraid other,” said the girl, quickly. 

“ Certainly not ; but you know how ofteif we are misunder- 
stood. Could you not bring yourself to let this woman strut 
her little hour upon your stage ? Candidly, I do not see why 
you may not meet this woman, as an artiste^ and ignore her, 
when the play is played out, as a woman.” 

I don’t think that is what she wants,” sai<l Fabrice. 

“ You need not care what she wants. You are under en- 
gagement to Manager Horton ; why not extricate yourself as 
easily as you can ? It won’t be for long.” 

“ No,” said Fabrice, drearily, it won’t be for long. Oh, 
it’s a very hard position in which to be placed. Ifl refuse, 
they will say that I am jealous, or afraid of my artistic lau- 
rels. Ifl consent — ” She stopped abruptly and shook her 
head. It’s useless,” she said ; I cannot consent.” 


SURRENDER. 


217 


Later, she told Madam Congreve of this conversation. 
‘‘ said Madam, drawing a long breath, what a fine 

fellow he is !” 

Yes/^ Fabrice answered, drearily, he is all ihat.^’ Then 
flinging her hand out passionately, Just as if 1 did not know 
that he’s flying in the face of all his prejudices ; as if I couldn’t 
see that he advises me in this way because he’s anxious to see 
things made smooth for me at any price.” 

I think you’re wrong there, my dear. I don’t think Sir 
Felix would speak an untruth, or do a wrong, even for your 
sake. I think he wanted to make you understand that you 
could do this thing without altering your position in his re- 
gard, without contamination.” 

The girllatighed a strange, weird laugh, in sheer derision of 
self. 

I think he’s very sorry for you, dear,” added Madam, gently. 
Suddenly, Fabrice flung herself into the nearest chair and be- 
gan to sob. 

Oh,” she cried, now yon are all going to begin pitying 
me. I won’t have it ! 1 hate it ! 

Fabrice !” 

I do !” Then, after a moment of sobbing, she sat erect and 
lifted a little, clenched fist. 

Oh ! how I liate that creature Hortense !” 

Poor child I” 

I do !” springing tip suddenly. If you don’t stop, I 
shall do something awful.” 

You’re getting morbid, my dear ; that’s my opinion. Af- 
ter all. this is not a life and death matter.” 

Isn’t it ?” turning upon her fiei cely. How do you know 
that ?” 


218 


A LOST WITNESS. 


As tlie day wore on, Fabrice continued to be besieged by 
]\Ianager Horton and others. She had ceased to argue with 
them ; slie answered only with a curt negative. And now 
Madam fancied that she saw another change. 

She seems now to be always looking for some one, to be 
expecting a caller, who never comes. When a card is pre- 
sented, slie takes it up eagerly, and then the look of blank dis- 
appointment that overspreads her face is sad to see.^^ 

Sir Felix sighed. ^Mt’s wonderful how she keeps up in 
public,’’ he said. There’s no change visible there.” 

‘‘ Oh,” sighed Madam, that’s a part of our trade.” 

Still the days slipped by, until the fourth week of Fabrice’s 
engagement was approaching its end. And the fifth week was to 
open with the new comedy, Two Sweethearts.” All had been 
quiet, unnaturally quiet, for days; and on Saturday morning, 
Fabrice said, suddenly, to her friend, I am going to see Janet 
Marshall.” She went ; and when she returned, Madam asked : 

How did you find Janet ?” 

Fabrice turned upon her with more spirit in her face than 
Madam had seen for a long time. 

Janet has been bought,” she said, energetically. She says 
she is too ill to play, but she is not. If I should take it into 
my head ti) jump off a bridge, or elope, Janet would come to 
the Horton rescue, and, with the aid of M’lle Novalis, could 
pull him through.” 

Still morbid, my dear,” said Madam. 

Shortly after luncheon. Manager Horton appeared. He 
looked pale and anxious ; his air of command and bluster had 
totally left him. He was subdued and melancholy. 

Once more he laid the case before Fabrice. He had just 
had a visit from Van Voort, who had held things in check 



219 









220 


A I/>feT VVITKESS. 


lon^ a.s he oouM, lo oblige him. It was too late to parley fur- 
ther ; he must have answer before seven o’clock. If Hortense 
did not appear on Monday next, in ^^Two Sweetheails,” she 
would appear just eight days later, in her own English com- 
edy company, and in her own house. Eveiy thing was in 
train. Money was free as water. 

If this happens,” the Manager said, I shall be a heavy 
loser ; you know that.” 

I’ll be a sharer in your losses,” said Fabrice. “ I can af- 
ford ir.” 

In Heaven’s name,” he burst out, what do you expect 
to gain by this obstinacy?” 

I have told you,” she retorted, “ that I will not enter into 
a rivalry with that woman, and that’s what she wishes.” 

^‘Oh, indeed ! Do you expect to cancel with me, then ?” 

Certainly not.” 

I’d like to know how much better off you’d be with your 
‘ rivalry.’ It’ll be that to the hilt if she opens at another 
house. If you play together, the thing won’t be so marked, 
and may be made to appear even amiable. If yon play in two 
houses, it will be simply war. It may be fun for you. You 
have heard about the boy and the frog, I suppose?” 

Fabrice got up and stood before him. 

^^I am getting very tii ed of this,” she said, wearilv. I 
want to go out now. At six o’clock I will give you my an- 
swer. But I want to tell you this : I am not deceived ; Janet 
Marshall can appear if she likes.” 

Fabrice took her maid with her, and went away in a car- 
riage. In an hour she was back. It was altnost five o’clock. 

^^Tell Mr. Horton, when he comes, Conny,” she said, that 
I yield the point. But I won’t see him tonight.” 


tJXDEU SURVEILI.AXCE. 


221 


CHAPTER XXX. 

UNDER SURVEILLANCE. 

The Siiiulay evening’s issue of tiie CaW^ contained three 
paragraphs of interest to our story, and of various degrees of 
interest to many readers. 

Perhaps that which most attracted attention from the ardent 
theatre-goer in search of a new sensation, was the announce- 
ment, brief but conspicuoiLly placed, of the appearance upon 
tile same stage, and in roles equally strong, rival roles in fact, — 
of La Belle Fabi'ice, ^Hhe accomplished litth; English Ceine- 
dienne, who had already made her conquest, and of M’lle Hor- 
tense Novalis, an acti'ess of Continental fame, and a woman 
who was admitted to be one of the most superb and dashing 
brunettes that had ever been seen upon the American stage.” 

Ui)on the same page was another paragraph : — 

It is now more than four weeks since we first chronicled the disap- 
pearance of Miss Leah Paiief, so lately an ornament to our best society, 
and the mystery whicli surrounds her fate only deepens as time goes on. 
In spile of all tliat has been done, all that human skid, it wouUl seem, 
could do ; in the face of the best efforts of our police and detective 
forces ; notwithstanding that a small fortune has aliead}'- been spent in 
prosecuting this search, — no clue has yet been obtained. Tiie case is 
strangely baffling. The position of the parties most interested, makes it 
seem doubly strange that here, in the heart of a great city, and in 
broad daylight almost, a young lady should disappear from her own 
threshold, as it were, more effectually than if the earth had opened to 
swallow her up. Whatever may hav(! been the theories, suspicions or 
beliefs in the beginning, and they were of all shades and kinds, there 


222 


A LOST WITNESS. 


is now, in the minds of those who are best qinilihed to judge, no doubt 
but that Leah Paget has been foully dealt with ; that behind this mys- 
tery lies a monstrous wrong. The search for a clue to this mystery is 
not yet abandoned. All that wealth and skill can do will still be done. 
But the trail is dark, and the end, we fear, is doubt. 

This paragraph, like the first, was one of momentary interest, 
at least, to the belles who liad known Leah Paget, and to all 
upper tendom. It, or the fact it set forth, was a thing to wring 
the hearts of Leah Paget’s friends, f w it was sadly true. 

Upon another page of the CaW^ was this paragraph, also 
of considerable interest to society: 

We learn, just as we go to press, that Lord Louis Barham, Earl of 
Harwold, a young English nobleman of great wealth, has arrived by the 
steamer Scythia, to join his friend. Sir Felix W3’’ntoun, who is already’ 
well known and liked in society. It is said that the two young noble- 
men, after a season in New York, intend making an extended tour of 
the States. 

The steamer Scythia had arrived in New York on Saturday 
night, and about the hour when Hortense Novalis learned 
that she had conquered, and was to appear with La Belle Fa- 
brice. 

Max Talfourd was aroused from a troubled morning dream 
to read a note from Sir Felix Wyntoun. 

^^My dear fellow,” so ran the note, you will find it worth 
your while to come to me at once. Don’t stop for breakfast. 
A person whom you will be glad to see, awaits you here. — 
Wyntoun.” 

In just half an hour Max Talfourd alighted from his coupe 
at the door of his friend’s hotel. 

Sir Felix greeted him with a look so radiant, and a hand 
clasped so reassuringly, that Max suddenly found his heartbeat- 


UNDER SURVEILLANCE. 


223 


ing hard against his waistcoat. Until this morning he had not 
been conscious that he had been pinning so much faith upon 
his friend’s praises and prophecies, nor hoping so much from 
an unseen stranger, although, for more than a week, both had 
been anxiously waiting the arrival of the man who arose as Max 
entered, and came promptly forward when Sir Felix said : 

Of course, you guessed whom you were to meet, Talfourd. 
Mr. Ferrars, this is my friend, the Max Talfourd of whom we 
have been speaking.” 

The two young men, so dilferent, yet so alike in manliness 
of bearing and directness of gaze, shook hands without speak- 
ing, while each scanned the other’s face. 

1 am going to tell you this much,” said Sir Felix to Max, 
as the three seated themselves about the waiting-table : I 
have been snubbed. I am going to give you warning ; don’t 
give him a chance at yourself, Talfourd.” 

Again the eyes of Max met those of Ferrars, full of grave 
inquiry. 

For reasons which I need not explain now,” began Fer- 
rars, with a nod toward Sir Felix, but addressing Max, “ I 
hold myself so much the friend of this roving young man here, 
that I am so foolish as to come sailing the seas at his beck and 
call. And for no better personal reason than that he declares 
he wants me tremendously. Now that I am here, he coolly 
dedicates me to your service, Mr. Talfourd. Seriously, Sir 
Felix has explained, partly by correspondence, the nature of 
your trouble — not the particulars, you understand. I prefer 
not to have them just yet. But — I am a man of straightfor- 
ward methods, Mr. Talfourd — and I begin by saying this: 
Unless you are willing to take all things for granted, and let 
me manage this affair entirely in my own way, I cannot prom- 
ise tc aid you.” 


224 


A LOST WITNESS. 


“Am 1 to understand this,” began Max, eagerly, ‘Mhat, 
upon your own terms, you will aid us?” 

Ferrars nodded. 

Then,” said Max, his whole aspect brightening, I* can 
sleep tonight hopefully. I am only too glad to put this busi- 
ness into your hands, and trust all to you.” 

Ferrars scanned his face keenly. 

Do you say so much,” he asked, solely upon the author- 
ity of this fellow ?” putting a hand affectionately upon the shoul- 
der of Sir Felix. 

^^Sir Felix Wyntoun’s bare word would have been suffi- 
cient for me in any emergency,” Max answered, gravely. Biit 
in this case, which is more than life and death to me, and 
which involves others besides myself, a life far more precious 
than my own, I have informed myself in all ])ossible ways. I 
could not do otherwise.” 

Ferrars half arose, and, leaning across the table, again prof- 
fered his hand to Max. 

I like that,” he said. I hope I may see my way clear 
to hel}) you.” 

“ I like it, too,” cried Sir Felix, heai’tily. But breakfast 
will help us all, perhaps, to see our way clearer.” 

He arose and rang the bell 

When breakfast was ovei-, and the three had settled thera= 
selves aboiit the table. Sir Felix smoliing a solitary cigar, 
Francis Ferrars said : 

Now, Mr. Talfourd, I am ready to listen.” 

To what ?” asked Max^ quietly. 

To your story of the disappearance.” 

Max turned a questioning face upon Sir Felix. 

I have heard it once from our friend^” said Ferrars^ un- 


UNDER SURVEILLANCE. 


225 


derstandingly. But I have learned from experience that no 
two people, be they the best of friends, and seemingly one in 
opinion, look at events from just the same point of view. Tell 
me the story, please, from the beginning, and in your own 
way, just as minutely as if ± were hearing it for the first 
time.’^ 

Somewhat surprised, and yet well pleased by fue straight- 
forward and self-reliant manner of the English detective. Max 
began his story, and, while he told it with every intention of 
being as minute as narrator could be, he soon found that his 
own idea of detail, and the idea of Ferrars, diflfered widely. 
The Englishman interrupted him with embarrassing frequency, 
often leading him back from some given point to ground, which, 
it seemed to Max, had been already exhausted, and asking 
questions that struck him as being very pertinent, almost im- 
pertinent, puzzling, embarrassing, and irrelevant. 

Thank you,’^ said Ferrars, when all was done. I begin 
to feel enlightened. Sliould I enter into this business, Mr. 
Talfourd, I shall probably look to you for much of my informa- 
tion and help.” 

Should you !” exclaimed Max. I thought that was set- 
tled.” 

I think myself that it is,” said Ferrars. ‘^But before we 
go further, I must see your Chief of Police. I have no inten- 
tion of joining forces, understand, but if your Chief is the man 
he should be, I shall not think of going into this case without 
his knowledge. Mr. Talfourd, how do you stand with the 
Chief of Police ?” 

Very well, I think,” replied Max. Captain Connors 
has been more than courteous to me. l^m afraid that I’ve 
bored him a little, too. Since my first raid upon him. I’ve 

8 


226 


A LOST WITNESS. 


visited his office pretty often, and he has been more than kind, 
always affording me any information that he could.’^ 

That’s satisfactory. Can you manage an interview for me, 
do you think, today, if possible. I don’t want him to know 
whom he is to meet.” 

I’ll make the trial at once,” said Max. 

When he was gone, glad of an opportunity to do even this 
much. Sir Felix turned to his friend. 

I’m awfully obliged to you for coming, Ferrars, and for 
going into this thing so readily. I’m deeply interested myself. 
How do you like him ?” 

Talfourd ?” queried the detective, who had helped himself 
to a cigar and was now lighting it. Fine specimen of Amer- 
ican of the right sort, I should fancy.” 

When Max returned, it was to announce that he would take 
Ferrars to see the Chief of Police that afternoon. 

I told him that I wanted to present a friend, an English- 
man, who had taken an interest in this case,” said Max, ^‘and 
he asked me at once if it was Sir Felix Wyntoun. He said, 
that he understood Sir Felix was my right-hand couiivsellor.” 

Ah !” ejaculated Ferrars. 

I replied that there was another, and he said, at once, 

^ Bring them both.’ ” 

A faint smile hovered about the mouth of Ferrars, though 
he made no comment ; but Sir Felix turned upon them an as- 
tonished face. 

What do you make out of that ?” he queried, addressing 
the detective. 

Merely this : You two have evidently been under sur- 
veillance.” 


A FIASCO. 


227 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

A FIASCO. 

How shall I present you asked Max Talfourd, as they 
were about to enter the office of Captain Connors. 

Simply as Ferrars/’ replied the detective. Leave the 
rest to me. I think you had better not dismiss the carriage.^^ 

That means/’ said Sir Felix, that you and I, Talfourd, 
are soon to be sent to Coventry.” 

Possibly,” assented Ferrars. 

Captain Connors,” said Max, when the three were in tlie 
presence of the Cliief, allow me to present Sir Felix Wyn- 
touu and Mr. Ferrars, of London.” 

The Captain greeted tliem cordially, and when they were 
seated, turned an inquiring gaze upon the English detective. 

Ferrars,” he said, slowly — Ferrars of London, you say ? 
Any relation to the great detective of that name?” 

My name is Francis Ferrars,” replied that young man, and 
he took from his pocket a card, which he proifered to the Chief. 

Captain Connors glanced at it and then again at Ferrars. 

I might have guessed at once,” he said, rising with alac- 
rity. ^‘It is the great Ferrars. I’ve had him described to 
me more than once, Mr. Talfourd. You couldn’t have brought 
me a more welcome visitor.” And then he looked from Max 
to Sir Felix, and seemed at a loss how to proceed. 

Having brought me. Captain,” said Ferrars, coolly, would 
you mind if I turn them out ? I didn’t come to you today 


228 A LOST WITNESS. 

simply to pay my respects. I want a private interview. If 
you’re afraid they’ll get into mischief, yon might send one of 
your sergeants to look after them.” 

Captain flushed a little and looked hard at the speaker ; and 
the young men, seeming not at all disconcerted, arose. 

As you please,” the Captain said, at last. You seem to 
understand one another, and I’m at your disposal, Mr. Fer- 
rars.” 

a We’re quite ready to be turned out, having accomplished our 
mission,” said Max, turning to go. 

And, by the way,” broke in Ferrars, “ I’ll find my way 
back to you, gentlemen ; don’t go out of your way for me.” 

When they were alone. Captain Connors hastened to hospita- 
bly set forth some choice wine and good cigars. Over those 
they chatted for a time, upon topics of more or less mutual in- 
terest, and then Ferrars, in his direct fashion, said : 

I’m glad to see. Captain, that you’re a straightforward 
man, like myself. You don’t waste words. Now, I’m going 
to tell you why I have sought this interview today. Sir Fe- 
lix Wyntoun has a claim upon my friendship and affection, to 
which, I hope, I shall always respond readily and heartily. It 
was a letter from him that brought me to New York, and u})on 
arriving here I find that he wishes to enlist me in the case of 
Miss Paget.” 

Ah !” breathed Captain Connors, and he leaned forward 
with his eyes fixed upon the speaker. 

I’ve heard a little about the case,” went on Ferrars, com- 
posedly, and I’ve almost made up my mind — ” 

Almost?” interrupted the Captain, and then he added, 
“ I wish you had said altogether. Why, man, I’ve worn 
myself out over this confounded case ! And I’ve about worn 


A FIASCO. 


229 


out some of niy men. I doift pretend to have any of those 
dashing detectives that we» read of — the kind, you know, who 
smell out a criminal, and only have to stand around and wait 
for him to come along. But I do claim to have some clever, 
capable, clear-headed fellows on my staff, and they’ve worked 
faithfully, too, but — ” A significant gesture completed the sen- 
tence, and as Ferrars remained silent, he added, It’s an ex- 
traordinary case !” 

Then you really are making no headway ?” asked Ferrars. 

None whatever, or none to any purpose but to further ex- 
asperate us.” 

You can’t even conjecture whether she is dead or alive?” 

‘‘ Not even that. But I’m certain of one thing, though : 
Alive or dead, Leah Paget never left this city. Alive or dead, 
she is in it now.” 

Ferrars started. Why, man, in the right hands, that’s a 
great deal.” 

In the right hands — yes,” said Connors, with a grimace. 

But the right hands haven’t shown up yet. Mr. Ferrars, 
are you going to put in yours?” 

I’ll tell you what I will do. Captain Connors,” said Fer- 
rars, gravely, as if weighing every word. If I can work in 
my own way, without hindrance and in perfect secrecy, — of 
course, I make an exception of yourself, otherwise I should not 
have come to you, — I will try my hand at the case.’ 

Then you will succeed !” exclaimed Connors, heartily, 
standing before Ferrars and burrowing in his trowsers-pockets, 
as if to hold himself down. Suppose, right here, you let me 
tell you what has been done upon this case.’* 

I shall be a very willing listener.” 

When you have heard what we have done, and how little 


230 


A LOST WITNESS. 


we have profited by our exertions, you will know what kind 
of a case youh-e about to tackle.” 

Connors assured himself that the door was secured against 
intruders, and unlocked a desk from which he took a ledger- 
like book, two or three note-books, and a bundle of papers. 
These he placed upon a small table, which he pushed forward 
to where Ferrars sat near a large window, and finally he drew 
up an easy-chair — companion to the one occupied by Ferrars. 

‘‘Now we can begin comfortably,” he said. 

It was a long story to which Ferrars listened, sitting move- 
less, with his eyes fixed upon the face of the narrator, except 
when he bent forward to scan some page turned by Connors, 
in the big book, or put out his hand to take and examine some 
paper. But, unlike his manner of listening to the same story 
from Sir Felix and Max Talfourd, he never once interrupted 
the Chief to question or comment. Indeed, it was not neces- 
sary, for Captain Connors was minute as to detail, and he now 
and then refreshed his memory by reading from his notes u})on 
the case. 

When it was done, Ferrars arose and walked once or twice 
the length of the room. Then he halted before the Chief. 

“ Captain Connors,” he said, gravely, “ I have never heard 
of more thorough, intelligent, and far-reaching search. And 
yet, you tell me that you have accomplished nothing!” 

The Chief shook his head. 

“ I’ll tell you what you have done. Captain Connors ; you 
have narrow^ed down the circle until the way is now open to 
the next who takes up the case, clear and plain. Gracious 
Heavens, man, can’t you see how much you have accom- 
plished ?” 

Still the Chief shook his head. 


A FIASCO. 


231 


You have convinced yourselves that, if the young lady 
was abducte(], it was not by any member of the criminal class 
known as professional, not by any of the lower class of 
blackmailers ; that she has not been seized and held for 
ransom.’’ 

If that had been the case, some of our traps would have 
caught tlie fish.” 

Exactly. You are equally sure that she is not secreted in 
any thieves’ den, or in any asylum ; and that if she had been 
murdered, either for purposes of robbery or revenge, you must 
have found some clue to the crime. In short, you have ex- 
hausted the possibilities among the criminal class. Now, where 
does this lead you ?” 

It leads me,” said Captain Connors, sturdily, where I am 
not best fitted to go, neither I nor my men. It leads me to be- 
lieve that in searching for Leah Paget, we are working against 
money and brains and wonderful cunning, and not against a 
common criminal.” 

Ferrars nodded. And do you really wish to drop this 
search now ?” 

Yes, if you will take it up.” 

Ferrars hel})ed himself to a cigar and proceeded to light it. 

I have to thank you for a very clear demonstration of the 
facts in this case, as you have them,” he said, when the cigar 
was fairly lighted. 

I’d thank yon,” said the Chief, if you would give expres- 
sion to your own opinion, as an off-set to my facts. What do 
you think of this thing?” 

I think, with yourself and your man, Nickerson,” said Fer- 
rars, if it is a crime, it is a most uncommon one. It is the 
crime of an aristocrat.” 


232 


A LOST WITNESS. 


At eleven o’clock on the following morning, Ferrars was 
again closeted with Chief of Police Connors. 

They liad been together for more than two hours, and they 
seemed to have arrived at a perfect mutual understanding. 

“ It lias not became known, then, that you are in New 
York ?” Captain Connors said, when they had disposed of the 
actual business that brought them together. have noticed 
that your name did not appear upon the list of arrivals.” 

‘‘ I travel very modestly,” said Ferrars, with a smile. No 
I am not supposed to be in America nor out of London.” 

A sharp, impatient rap sounded on the office-door. 

^^One moment,” said the Captain, and he went at once to 
the dooi’, opened it, and then stepped out, shutting it quickly 
behind him. 

It was Polly Cousin who had applied for admittance, and 
the Chief saw at a glance that he brought news of importance. 
He was thinner than when he first enlisted in the search for 
Leah Paget, and paler. He had about him an air of haste and 
anxiety, even though his movements were slower and his 
speech less brusque than usual. 

“ IsT you. Cousin ?” said the Chief. I can’t let you in 
just now^ — in ten minutes, say. What is it?” 

Cousin came close to him, but when he spoke it was as if he 
was making a commonplace and uninteresting announcement. 

Leah Paget has come back.” 

What !” 

Paget’s daughter has come back.” 

The Chief looked quickly about him, and then caught the 
young man by the shoulders. 

Come in,” he said, and was about to fling open the office- 
door. But Cousin drew back. 



333 






234 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Not if there’s some one there,” he said. I’ve told you all 
I know about it.” 

“ Look here,” began the Chief, and then stopped short. 
The pallor was increasing in Cousin’s face ; he was shivering 
as if with an ague. 

Boy, what ails you ?” cried the Chief, in alarm. Are you 
ill? Are you out of your senses?” He put forth his hand 
once again to take him by the arm, but again Cousin evaded 
the friendly touch. 

I’ve just been told that Miss Paget returneo nome this 
morning early. It came from one of the servants, I think. I 
don’t know the particulars — you’ll hear, of course — I — I be- 
lieve I’m ill — I — ” His teeth were chattering, and his voice 
was husky. I’ll go out a bit.” 

He turned, and hurried out from the great building. 

For a moment Chief of Police Connors stood where Cousin 
had left him, looking blankly down the long corridor. Then 
he re-entered his office. 

One moment,” he said again to Ferrars, and seated himself 
at his desk, where he dashed off half a dozen words, folded the 
message, and put out his hand to touch the bell. Then a new 
thought seemed to stop him. He withdrew his hand and turned 
to Ferrars. 

I’m at a loss,” he said. I found outside the door one of 
the men I have most relied upon in this Paget business.” He 
flung down the written message and got up. By George, 
sir, he tells me that Leah Paget is found !” 

Is found ?” 

Yes, sir.” He threw himself down in a chair opposite 
Ferrars, and told him what Cousin had said, and how he had 
said it. I have got a note of inquiry ready to send,” he 
added. Would you do it?” 


BLIC^HTED HOPES. 


235 


I canH advise you/' said Ferrars, gravely. I wish I 
might have seen your informant.^’ 

Cousin ? You can see* him easily enough. I wonder if he’s 
going to break up. Never saw him look like that before. 
Cool, level-headed fellow. Overworked, I’m afraid. Well, 
if this isn’t a fiasco — ” 

Again a knock at the door broke in upon his speech. This 
time it was a letter. The Chief glanced at the superscription, 
uttered a sharp ejaculation, and opened it hastily. 

Once and again he ran his eye over the two or three lines it 
contained. Then he tossed it to Ferrars, while a frown dark- 
ened his face. Read that,” was all he said. 

Ferrars caught up the letter and read : 

Captain Connors. 

Sir : — This is to inform you that Miss Leah Paget is now at home. 
You will stop all proceedings at once. I will do myself the honor to 
see you soon. Until then, 

I am yours, etc. 

A. K. Paget. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

BLIGHTED HOPES. 

On Monday morning, while Francis Ferrars was closeted 
with the Chief of Police, Manager Horton was in high spirits. 
All had gone well, even if it was at the eleventh hour. That 
night was to witness a triumph, a double triumph. 

A new comedy — and such a charming comedy, — such gorge- 
ous and varied scenery, such original, such picturesque, such 


236 


A LOST WITNESS. 


funny and such pathetic situations ! And then, such Stars ! — La 
Belle Fabrice, already crowned and acknowledged queen; 
Hortense Novalis, with her beauty and foreign successes to re- 
commend lier ! What a triumph for Manager and Stars ! 

There was to be a dress-rehearsal that morning, and behind 
the scenes all was bustle and haste. The Manager’s spirits 
seemed infectious. There was much laughter and exchanging 
of jests and congratulations. 

What I wonder,” said a little Chambermaid to the big 
second Old Woman, is, how the Novalis is to get her study. 
It’s not twenty-four hours notice, Massey says.” 

Massey was the leader of the orchestra, and intimate with 
the Manager. 

Massey might have told you, for he certainly knew that 
Horton had given the Novalis Janet’s part on the chance of 
her playing it,” the Old Woman said. Isn’t it about time 
they were here?” 

Ten minutes later, the two were again, for a moment, alone, 
at one of the wings. The girl had just come up from the 
dressing-rooms. 

Why don’t we begin, Lotty ?” 

The girl shook her head. 

‘ I shouldn’t wonder if there was a hitch somewnere,” she . 
whispered. Horton’s losing his temper. They don’t mate- 
rialize.” 

What, neither ?” 

Neither. Not even their maids. Not even Congreve.” 

It was quite true. The time for the first act was at hand. 
The people were gathering at the wings, anxious to see, for the 
rivals, Fabrice and Hortense, were to appear together in the 
very first scene. 


BLIGHTED HOPES. 


237 


And still the rivals were not in their places ; they were not 
even in their dressing-rooms. 

No longer able to curb his impatience, and filled now with 
anxiety, Manager Horton dispatched two messengers — one to 
Fabrice, one to Horten se. 

But, almost before they were out of the building, the Call 
Boy approached the Manager, and whispered something in his 
ear, — something which caused him to hasten below with a very 
anxious look upon his face. 

He found Madam Congreve alone in Fabrice^s dressing- 
room, her face fairly haggard. She started forward and clutched 
his arm. 

Have you seen Fabrice she whispered. 

Good Heavens He turned abruptly, closed the door and 
locked it. Now/’ he said, turning a dark look upon Madam, 

what does this mean ?” 

I wish I knew,” said Madam. Fm afraid to think what 
it means. Fabrice is missing.” 

Missing ?” The Manager gritted his teeth in impotent fury. 

Missing ! Yes. I might have expected something like 
this.” 

“I wish I had,” sighed Madam. 

You — oh, yes ! Don’t tliink that I’m duped, Madam 
Congreve — ” 

Madam Congreve threw up a hand, and the look that ac- 
companied the gesture checked his speech. 

Do not assume that tone with me, Mr. Horton. If harm 
has befallen Fabrice, I shall always hold you as in part the 
cause of it. Fabrice has been in trouble for weeks. I have 
seen that, but could not guess the cause. She has been strug- 
gling against it and doing her best to fulfill her engagement 


238 


A LOST WITNESS. 


with you, and in the teeth of this you have made her life a 
burden, with your constant urging of this impostor French 
actress upon her. Don^t talk to me as if I were to 
blame.” 

Madam was a woman, and having had her fling at him, she 
caught her breath to smother a sob, and threw herself into a 
dressing-chair. 

Madam Congreve,” he ejaculated, calmed, in a measure, by 
her tirade, will you begin at the beginning and tell me what 
has happened ?” 

What has happened? I have said that Fabrice is gone. 
Her maid awoke me this morning pale and frightened. Fa- 
brice’s room was empty, her bed had not been slept in. Every- 
thing was in order, just as it was last night. Her writing- 
desk was open, but she has left no word, not a line. Nothing 
is missing from her wardrobe, except a dark, plain street cos- 
tume, which she probably W()re away. Evidently, she has been 
gone since last night !” 

Madam spoke rapidly, wringing her hands as she talked. 
Her distress and anxiety were only too evident. 

What have you done ?” gasped the Manager, dropping into 
the nearest chair. 

Nothing. I have not even alarmed the house. I thought 
it best to come straight to you.” 

Eight.” He arose and unlocked the door. As it swung 
noiselessly open, the stage manager came within sight from a 
room lower down. The Manager beckoned him to approach. 

Has M’lle Novalis arrived ?” 

Not yet.” 

‘^Then put them off in some way until we hear from her. 
When slie comes, call me.” He turned back into the room, 


death’s victims. 


239 


and closed and locked the door. Have you any idea — ” lie 
began, but Madam moved oif the question. 

Don’t speak to me,” she groaned. I want to think.” 

Baffled, and full of dire foreboding, the Manager resumed liis 
seat and tried to wait in quiet, if not in patience. It was bet- 
ter to wait there than among those clamoring people, he 
thought, but it was tedious. 

Nearly half an hour had ticked itself slowly away, and then 
there came a thump upon his door. It was the stage manager 
again, and with him the messenger sent out to fetch Hortense 
Novalis. 

Both men were pale and evidently excited, and behind them, 
further on and up the stairway, they could distinctly hear a 
babel of sharp exclamations and feminine shrieks. 

Well,” demanded the Manager, what now ?” 

She — she,” stammered the messenger, she — Hortense is 

dead ! Shelias killed herself!” 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 
death’s victims. 

It was while the Chief of Police and the detective were still 
looking at each other, the letter of Abner Paget between them 
on the table, and the wonder not yet out of their faces, that the 
message came : 

O 

A woman murdered at the Dresden Flats, Lexington Avenue. Come 


at once. 


240 


A LOST WITNESS. 


The Chief read it, and was instantly his grave official self. 

That’s a message I can understainl/’ he said, and la'ad it 
aloud to Ferrars. The Dresden Flats — they’re that superb 
new block lately built, and too fine and expensive for ordinary 
tenants. Will you go with me?” 

a said Ferrars, rising ; “ only don’t make me too con- 

spicuous.” 

“ I won’t do that,” responded the Chief, grimly. They 
won’t be especially afraid of me, but if it’s a murder, I wouldn’t 
want the assassins to know that Ferrars, the English detective, 
was on the premises. Oh, you’ve been pretty well introduced 
over here. Detectives and criminals who are a success, can’t 
hide their light under a bushel.” 

The criminals,” suggested Ferrars, drily, succeed in do- 
ing it sometimes, I have found.” 

“ You have found !” echoed the Chief. Well !” 

The great entrance to the Dresden Flats was, oidinarily, 
open to all and at all hours. Usually, it was presided over by 
a janitor, or by two janitors, who officiated in turn. Through 
this splendid and spacious vestibule one passed to a succession 
of courts, upon which opened numerous apartments, each hav- 
ing its own hall and vestibule, through which the visitor- 
passed befoi-e reaching the reception-room and the salon ])roper. 
Thus, after the publicity of the grand vestibule and court were 
done with, each apartment was as isolated as a separate private 
dwelling. 

Today the Chief and Ferrars found the vestibule guarded 
by a brace of policemen, and one of tlrese answered, with a 
grin, that no time had been lost in putting the place under 
quarantine. 

You were quite right,” said the Chief. 


death’s victims. 


241 


We didn’t do it,” rejoined the officer. We weren’t given 
time. It was the young man.” 

Tiie young man ?” 

The one who found the body. It’s the French actress, 
Hortense — ” He stopped, evidently struggling with the strange 
name. 

The court above was nearly full of people. Some of them 
had succeeded in getting in from the street, but most of them 
were occupants of the great building. It was by no means an 
ordinary crowd. There were men in perfect business-suits, 
men in smoking-coats and caps, men in dressing-gowns and 
slippers. Two or three reporters had already scented their 
prey ; and grouped together in the background were women in 
all manner of dainty deshabille — hastily -ca ugh t-up wraps, head- 
coverings, and concealing-draperies. 

One or two superfluous policemen walked to and fro with an 
air of believing themselves doing duty. And, before a closed 
door — a dnor bearing the name of Hortense Novalis upon a card 
in the center panel, stood three men, each witli an appearance of 
waiting and being on guard. 

One was a tall elderly man, with a soldierly bearing ; the 
second, a serious-faced policeman, who seemed to know exactly 
what he was about ; the third, pallid and mute, was Frederick 
Quinlan. 

Seeing his Chief, the policeman came forward and said, in a 
low tone : 

I’m glad that you’ve come. Captain. It’s a nasty piece of 
business. Nothing has been done. I was second on the prem- 
ises, and I closed the rooms at once.” 

Come,” said the Chief, and then, as they approached the 
door, he recognized the tall man. 


242 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Ah, Grove, is it you ?” Tlien he nodded to Quinlan. 

Was it you who discovered the body he asked. 

Quinlan bent his head. 

“ Let us go in/^ said the Chief. You will come, Grove, 
and Mr. Quinlan, of course. Starrs,” to the policeman, “you 
will stand guard here and see that no one enters.” 

When they had crossed the threshold of the vestibule, the 
Chief halted and looked about him. 

It was a small room and square, probably ten feet by ten. 
The walls were hung with tapestries, and it was lighted only 
by the stained-glass panels in the up})er half of the door, and 
by an arched transom above it. The floors were of tessellated 
marble, with two or three rugs at one side. In the center, di- 
rectly beneath the chandelier, was a bronze aflair, representing 
the knotted stump of a tree, from one side of which branches 
shot up in queer curves. An umbrella in the hollow of the 
stump, and a hat and scarf depending from one of the curved 
branches, indicated its use. On either side were two low, broad- 
cushioned couches, each fitting in its entire side from wall to 
wall. Upon the left, as they stood facing t\\Q jportierey which 
shut in the reception-room proper, the floor was uncovered, and 
the rugs which corresponded with those upon the floor at the 
right, were flung in a careless manner, one upon another, on 
the low divan at that side. 

When the eye of the Chief had taken in all this, he strode 
through the dimly-lighted place, and drew aside the silken 
curtains opposite the door of entrance. 

“ It’s not here,” said the man he had addressed as Grove. 
And he passed under the portiere and stood beside the Chief. 
“That,” pointing to a closely-drawn curtain in an archway 
opposite them, “ is the salon. Here,” turning to the left and 


death’s victims. 


243 


indicating by a gesture a smaller arch, also curtained, is the 
boudoir. The body is there.” 

The Chief crossed the small and dainty reception-room, 
where all was in its usual order, and drew aside the concealing 
drapery. 

Good Heavens !” he cried, recoiling, what a scene !” 

It was the room, wliere, not long since, its mistress had re- 
ceived Manager Horton. But now, how different ! Here, and 
in the dressing-room beyond, what confusion ! — Chairs over- 
turned, tables, with their costly weight of bric-a-brac, broken, 
and lying about the floor, some of them dabbled with blood ; 
curtains torn down and trailing upon the carpet ; the con- 
tents of desks and boxes and drawers strewn all about, with 
here and there splashes of blood upon them ; blood-stains upon 
the walls, and pools of blood soaked into the mossy carpets. 

Near the divan, with its soft cushions and rich coloring, lay 
a long, slender Spanish stiletto, and beyond, just over the 
threshold of the dressing-room, lay a short, broad-bladed Jap- 
anese knife, both blood-stained, and hideously suggestive. 

And the rnisti’ess of all this wrecked splendor, lay among 
the disordered cushions of the divan, half on and half off, her 
hands clutching the soft fabric of a splendid robe that lay upon 
it torn and bloody. Her body rested u})on the cushions as if 
it had fallen there in the last struggle, her limbs dragging 
upon the floor, her arms thrown out before her, her face turned 
side-wise and toward the window, through which a sunbeam 
came slanting, making horribly distinct the deadly gashes in 
the fair throat. 

She was dressed in a long and lustrous gown of creamy 
satin, heavy with lace, and garnished with crimson and yellow 
roses. Her splendid shoulders and arms were bare and gleam- 


244 


A LOST WITNESS. 


ing with jewels. Her face was untouched either by scar or 
blood-stain, and the glare of the wide open eyes, and the traces 
of agony in the dead face, were rendered more horrible by con- 
trast with the flowers and lace and gleaming jewels. 

When, moving carefully around the divan, the Chief had 
noted this much, he turned to Quinlan, who, with Ferrarsand 
tlie stranger addressed as Grove, had remained in the doorway. 

Will you,” he began — 

I was the first to enter,” broke in Quinlan, hoarsely, but 
I did nothing more than assure myself that she was dead. 
Then I rushed out to give the alarm, going myself for an offi- 
cer and for Dr. Grove. We went through the rooms, then, but 
nothing has been touched.” 

^‘Draw the curtains,” said the Chief to Ferrars. As he led 
the way back to the reception-room, he said, Let us sit here, 
and you will tell us what you know of this, Mr. Quinlan.” 

As the four men grouped themselves together near the cen- 
ter of the small room, Francis Ferrars stood facing the arch 
which led to the anteroom or entrance. 

The portiere was drawn aside as they had left it in passing 
through, and when Quinlan, who stood with his back toward 
it, shifted his position slightly so that he might lean upon the 
high back of a chair as he talked, Ferrars had a clear view of 
that side of tlie anteroom where the rugs lay heaped upon the low 
divan. The light from the inner room, now that the hangings 
were drawn away, brought out more cleai ly the outlines of the 
heaped-up rugs. At the moment when Quinlan began to speak, 
Ferrars suddenly and without a word started forward, strode 
to the divan, and, laying his hand upon the topmost rug, lifted 
it a little, and then let it fall back to its place. 

Come here,” he said, sharply — all of you,” 




“Good Heavens!” he cried, recoiling, “What a scene!” 

Page 243. 


245 



246 


A LOST WITNESS. 


In a moment all three were beside him, and then he flung 
aside the topmost rug, and the next one, and the next. 

Instinctively, tlie three men recoiled, and Frederick Quinlan 
staggered, and clutched the arm of Dr. Grove for support. 

Lying before them, upon the low divan, was the woman 
Virginie. Her attitude was that of a slee}>er, but a glance as- 
sured them that it was the sleep of death ! • 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

A LETTER AND A FACE. 

The dead woman lay with her face to the wall. One hand 
hung loosely at her side, the other was lightly resting upon 
her breast, the fingers intertwined with a knot of ribbon that 
decorated her gown. The attitude was most natural — was that 
of perfect repose, and yet — 

There was a smothered exclamation from the lips of Frederick 
Quinlan, and he pressed forward and bent for a moment low 
over the inanimate form. When he turned away it was to face 
Ferrars, and for an instant the eyes of the two met and held 
each other. Then they moved back, and Dr. Grove knelt be- 
side the body, touched the cold hand, and peered into the pal- 
lid face. 

Useless,” he said, and turned away. She has been dead 
for hours, like the other.” 

When they returned to the inner room, the Chief drew 
Ferrars aside. 


A LETTER AND A FACE. 


247 


This is going to be a tough case/^ he said, in a low tone. 
“ And, since the Paget affair is at an end, may I count on 
you r 

Ferrars considered for a moment, and then he answered : 

“Wait, ril stay with you through the investigation, or 
until we see what it’s coming to. May I make a suggestion ?” 

“ A dozen, if you like.” 

“ These rooms had better be thoroughly overlooked — with- 
out the aid of that young man there.” 

“ I agree with you,” said the Chief. “Will you assist? I 
do not quite see my way. I — ” 

“Captain Connors,” — it was the voice of Quinlan speaking 
at his elbow — “ may I say a word to you ?” 

The Chief nodded. 

Quinlan was still very pale, but he had regained his self- 
possession. 

“ I perfectly realize my position,” he said, making his words 
quite audible to all in the room. “ I have been the friend of 
this dead girl, almost her only friend, certainly her nearest in 
this city. I was the last to see her alive, except, of course, the 
assassin — ” 

“ Take care, sir,” broke in the Chief ; “ you are not required 
to tell us — ” 

Quinlan interrupted him by a gesture. 

“ Pardon me, I know what I am saying, as you will under- 
stand when I explain myself. I was the one to find this — 
this horror, — the first on the scene. I suppose you will want 
to detain me. I must be in your eyes an object of suspicion, 
at least. If you will de[)utize Dr. Grove, here, to take me in 
charge, I will remain wherever you may choose to put me, un- 
til you have completed your investigation. I suppose that 


248 


A LOST WITNESS. 


is the first thing, and I suppose you count time as valuable.^’ 

The Chief and Ferrars exchanged glances. The latter nodded 
almost imperceptibly. 

Perhaps that will be best,’’ said the Cliief, and then he 
turned his eyes upon Dr. Grove. 

The latter nodded, and seated himself in the nearest chair. 
Quinlan placed himself in another close at liiuid, but further 
from the anteroom than was that occupied by the jailor pro 
tern. 

Without another word. Captain Connors lifted i\\Q portiere 
that separated them from the boudoir, and in a moment he was 
standing, once more, with Ferrars beside him, upon the scene of 
the death-struggle, and in the presence of death. Scarcely a 
word was spoken as they traversed the two rooms, noting the 
blood-stains all about, and the disorder, which seemed to have 
had its beginning in the inner room, and to have culminated 
there before the blood-drenched cushions. 

As he stepped slowly and cautiously about, Ferrars bent 
suddenly and put his hand upon something gleaming white, 
that was half concealed by a torn down drapery, near the dress- 
ing-room door. It was a statuette of clearest marble, the ex- 
quisite counterpart of Power’s Greek Slave, and across its 
whiteness, marring the pure outlines of the delicate body which 
it almost girdled, was the print of a slender hand outlined in 
blood. 

Ah,” whispered Ferrars, that is something. Look at 
those finger marks and then at the hand yonder.” 

Captain Connors knelt above the little statuette and scanned 
it carefully. Then, while Ferrars passed on into the dressing- 
room, he went back to the couch, and knelt again beside the 
body of Hortense Novalis. 


A LETTER AND A FACE. 


249 


In the dressing-room the disorder was not so marked, nor 
so gliastly with signs of blood. Tiie bed had not been occu- 
pied, but it bore the imprint of a human form, as if some one 
had thrown himself liastily down uj)()n it for a moment ; and 
Ferrars was quick to notice that about the head the signs of 
disariangement were more marked. He stepped to the side 
of the bed and looked down at it, shifted his position and looked 
again. 

Thus far he had been careful not to move, nor even touch 
unnecessarily, any of the numerous articles in the room. But 
now he put out Ids hand promptly, and lifted one of the pil- 
lows. Just as he had anticipated, a crumpled and torn letter 
lay directly underneath. 

An instant he regarded it without touching, and then again 
he put out his hand. This time it was the lace bed-covering 
that he lifted carefully, and again he was rewarded. Beneath 
the cover was a small photograph, its blank side uppermost. 

Without a moments liesitation he turned the card, reveal- 
ing thus a maids pictured face. Self-possessed and thoroughly 
schooled though he was, he started, and almost cried aloud his 
amazement and horror, for the pictured face was that of the 
man to whom he had promised his help and his confidence. 
It was the face of Max Talfourd ! 

Ferrars snatched up the picture and thrust it into his breast- 
pocket, glancing hastily over his shoulder. Captain Connors, 
with Ids back squarely toward him, was still kneeling beside 
the body of the dead actress. With a quick deft movement, 
Ferrars replaced the lace bed-cover and caught up the crum- 
pled letter. 

Again he glanced toward the Chief, who was apparently mak- 
ing a methodical measurement of the fingers of the dead hand. 


250 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Then, with swift fingers, the detective straightened out the torn 
and crumpled sheet. In the stillnes of the moment its faint rustle 
sounded noisy. He gave it one glance — a glance that took in 
one word at the bottom of the page, a name, and then, with an- 
other swift movement, the letter was thrust out of sight, as the 
picture had been. 

Francis Ferrars always kept his wits about him, and now, 
after a moment of thought, standing there beside the bed, he 
replaced the pillow and went back to the boudoir, where 
Captain Connors, with a grave face, was just rising from his task. 

Captain,’^ said Ferrars, in alow whisper, a little delay 
cannot harm the dead. Is there a man among those fellows 
outside whom we can trust to deliver a delicate message 

The Chief shook his head. 

Then,’^ said Ferrars, I must go myself.’^ 

Tlie Chief only looked his inquiry. 

Ferrars laid a hand upon his arm. “ Captain,’^ he said, 
some one must go at once to the house of Mr. Paget. He must 
have a warning.” 

Captain Connors was not so rapid in his methods as was 
the Englishman, but he had not been Chief of Police to no 
purpose. 

Good Heavens !” he exclaimed, after one mute moment. 
Is that affair going to mix itself with this ?” 

Not if I can help it,” said Ferrars, grimly. But some 
one must go.” 

Very well,” replied the Chief. Then, it had better 
be — ” He hesitated a moment. Have you seen Abner Pa- 
get ?” 

No.” 

Then it had better be you.” 


A LETTER AND A FACE. 


251 


Ferrars glanced at his watch and then back to the face of 
the Chief. Fli explain later/^ he said, “ And I warn you, 
Captain, it will take me longer to do this thing than it would 
one of your men.^’ 

‘‘ Longer T’ The ChieFs eyes met his and a smile crossed 
his face. I see,” he said. But go, if you must. I’ll 
keep things moving here.” 

When Ferrars lifted the curtain to cross to the outer room, 
Frederick Quinlan sprang up, on seeing who it was. And 
when the English detective dropped the hanging, and briskly 
crossed the reception-room, Quinlan moved after him. 

One moment, sir,” he said, eagerly. 

Ferrars halted and faced about. 

You are going out?” asked Quinlan. 

Ferrars nodded. 

I want to make an appointment with you.” QuiuLm 
lowered his voice, and as Ferrars continued silent, he drew 
still nearer. I must see you as soon as possible,” he con- 
tinued, in a sharp whisper. ‘‘ If money will buy them, I 
want your services.” 

Still no word from Ferrars, only a look of inquiry. 

Do not fancy,” went on Quinlan, in the same sibiLuit 
whisper, that I am going to submit tamely to what I clearly 
foresee. I realize my position and I want your help. Oh, 
I know who you are !” 

Francis Ferrars continued to eye him keenly for a moment, 
and then he said, as he put out his hand to draw aside the 
second portiere : 

‘‘Be very careful how you use your knowledge!” 


252 


A LOST WITNESS. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A SEALED BOOK. ^ 

Ferrars passed quickly through ihe throng in the outer court 
and out upon the street. Several cabs were now standing be- 
fore the great building, and he stepped into one of these and 
gave the driver his order in a low tone. 

It was not the address of Abner Paget that be gave, but in- 
stead, the name of a quiet hotel in the very heart of business 
New York ; and he added, ‘‘ Get me there in five minutes, if 
possible.^^ 

As they rattled over the pavement, his thoughts were busy. 
There were fine lines between his eyes, and his lips were com- 
pressed. Once he put his hand to the pocket that contained 
the picture of Max Talfourd and the crumpled letter. Then, 
as if recalling himself, he dropped his hand and smiled grimly. 

In truth, the English detective was in a strange state of 
mind ; in any one else, such a mental condition might be more 
fitly described as a confused state.” But Francis Ferrars 
was never confused, as a witness to his every movement on 
that day would have testified with wonder and admiration. 

Genius,” says somebody, knows its own time.” And 
Francis Ferrars, in this emergency, knew that he must not 
wait nor falter now. Not the Chief of Police, not all the com- 
bined force of the entire city, would turn or sway him. He 
had come to New York to serve a friend of his friend, and 


A SEALED BOOK. 


253 


Fate had shown him a mystery which threatened, perhaps, the 
object of his good intentions. 

On the other hand, he wns bound to Captain Connors by 
every tie of courtesy. He had promised, and almost proffered, 
his help. Well, he would not fail Captain Connors. But 
Captain Connors was not the only man who trusted him. 

Pie did not look like a man puzzled or at a loss, as he dis- 
missed the cab at the door of his hotel. He was as direct of 
movement as of speech. 

In his room he wrote three notes. One to Sir Felix Wyn- 
toun, one to Max Talfourd, and one, the last and, perhaps, the 
longest, to Abner Paget. He made, too, some other prepara- 
tions, few and simple, but sufficient. The man who went out 
was not the man who came in. The man, who, a few minutes 
later, was ringing at the door of the Pagets, was not at all the 
man who had so lately left the scene of what was to be known 
and talked of for many days as the Dresden Flats murder.’’ 

He posted the first two letters, but the third he still held in 
his hand as he was shown into the morning-room of the Pagets, 
and there awaited the master of the house. 

When Abner Paget came, Ferrars lost no time in putting 
into his hand the envelope he had not chosen to give to the serv- 
ant who opened the door for him. 

From the Chief of Police,” was all he said. 

Paget frowned as he took the letter. He had just signified 
to Chief Connors his intentions to wait upon him in good time. 
Why must these officers of the law be so importunate ? He 
could not bring himself to open the letter tamely, without a re- 
monstrance. 

Is Captain Connors in such desperate haste ?” he began, 
looking sternly into the face of the messenger, and then checked 


254 


A LOST WITNESS. 

himself in sheer surprise, as he found that he — he, Abner Paget 
— was being openly inspected by this cool personage, — inspected 
with a keen impersonal gaze that was a new and embarrassing 
experience to the man so scanned. 

Yoif d better read the note,” said Ferrars, coolly. 

The tone seemed to leave him witli nothing else to do, and 
he opened the sheet and read : 

“ Abner Paget, etc., etc.— 

“ Sir : — If the fact of your daughter’s return has not already been 
made known, you will do well to keep it back, for a day and a night at 
least, if no longer. A thing has occurred, which, if mentioned in con- 
nection with your daughter’s return, even as a coincidence, will be very 
unpleasant at the best. At the worst, it might become more unpleasant 
than anything that has gone before. If the news has not got beyond your 
own household, and your servants are to be trusted, keep it shut within 
your doors. T will see you as soon as possible.” 

This was the note, and there was no signature. 

Abner Paget had read it and frowned darkly. Was he still 
to be dictated to by these odious servants of the public? He 
made a stride toward the messenger. 

Are you an officer ?” he asked, brusquely, 
am a detective,” was the reply. 

Do you know what this letter means ?” 

It means all that it says,” said Ferrars, taking a step tow- 
ard the door. Has it come too late ?” 

The old man hesitated, and the struggle between pride and 
paternal solicitude was very evident to the man before him, 
who felt a throb of pity, and then a gust of anger. 

For your daughter’s sake,” began Ferrars, I hope it is 
not too late. As for — ” He stopped, and turned quickly, at a 
sound just behind him. Then the hand, uplifted to place his 


A SEALED BOOK. 


255 


hat upon his head, fell at his side, and he bowed low as a pale- 
faced woman, with anxious eyes crossed the threshold and 
stopped before them. 

Slie wore a long dark morning-robe ; her hair was silvered 
here and there among the soft brown ; her attitude was that of 
a feeble body upheld by a stronger will. Ferrars could see 
that her hands and lips were trembling. 

What is it?’^ she asked, looking from her husband to' the 
stranger before her. What is it ? About my daughter 

Still Abner Paget remained mute and frowning. The lady 
stood for a moment as if waiting, then she made a step toward 
him, holding herself very erect. 

Mr, Paget,’’ she said, with dignity, will you tell me what 
this — ” 

Madam,” broke in Ferrars, allow me. I am a detective. 
I have brought a message to Mr. Paget.” As he spoke he 
drew a chair before her. 

She bowed her thanks and placed a hand upon the chair to 
steady herself. 

Is it, your message, about my daughter?” she asked, with 
her eyes searching his face. 

Yes, Madam.” 

A flush mounted to her temples and a new light came into 
her eyes. 

One moment,” she said, and turning, took the letter from 
her husband’s hand. Then she seated herself in the chair 
Ferrars had proffered her, and without glancing at her lord, 
began the perusal of the note. Before she had reached the 
last words, the color had faded from her face, but her eyes re- 
tained their look of resolute and offended dignity as she lifted 
them to the face of Ferrars. 


256 


A LOST WITNESS. 


‘‘ Do you know what this note means she asked. 

Yes, Madam.” 

And you will tell me?” 

‘‘ Later you will understand. I have not the time now.” 
He looked at her fixedly a moment, and added : If you will 
see that this advice is carried out, I think there will be no 
trouble.” 

“ I will see to that,” she said. I think 1 can compre- 
hend.” 

That is well. Uniil you hear again from Captain Con- 
nors, let it rest so.” He made a gesture of farewell to the 
lady, and, without a glance at Abner Paget, hastened out and 
away. 

For a long moment there was silence in the Paget morning- 
room. Then Abner Paget took his stand directly in front of the 
chair in which his wife still sat, with the note between her 
fingers. 

If I heard aright,” he began, slowly, and in his sternest 
tones, you said to that singular young man tliat you under- 
stood the meaning of that note. May I beg to be enlightened. 
Madam ?” 

Then the wife, from whose lips he had heard nothing that 
was not gently dignified, courteously calm, even in moments 
when their opinions differed, arose and stood erect before him. 

Perhaps I did not choose ray words well,” she said. I 
meant that I understood that such a necessity might exist. I 
could see some reason for such precaution.” 

“You could see some reason for precaution — ^you? Ma- 
dam !” 

“ Stop !” She moved quite away from the chair now, and 
broke sternly in upon his speech. “ Stop,” she said again. 


BEFORE THE INQUEST. 


257 


“ Abner Paget, I don’t know Iiow far your stubborn will, your 
wicked pride, may have gone toward helping her to such a de- 
cision, but the tyranny you began long ago has borne its first 
fruit in a way you little expected. Leah Paget is your child 
and she has some of your obstinacy. Heaven only knows how 
this will end. Almost against my belter judgment I have 
promised to stand by her. But I don’t know, I dare not think, 
what it means — ” 

What it means !” he cried. What do you mean ?” 

She caught her breath hard, and clutched at the arm he put 
out in a gesture meant to be commanding. 

Hush !” she said, let us not talk about meanings, for fear 
they may make our troubles worse. All I can say is this : 
Leah Paget, your daughter and mine, has just assured me — me, 
her mother — that upon the subject of her strange absence, a 
month’s absence, she will not open her lips to you, to me, to any 
one. The past four weeks, she says, must be a blank, a sealed 
book, whose pages she will never unclose !” 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

BEFORE THE INQUEST. 

Upon his return to the house of Mystery, Ferrars encoun- 
tered a new and unpleasant complication. Chief Connors him- 
self was waiting his coming and he drew him at once aside. 

Come with me,” he vvhispered. One of the tenants on 
this floor has kindly put his study at my disposal. We can 

9 


258 


A LOST WITNESS. 


talk safely there. He’s a bachelor, and has turned out his 
own servant and given me the key.” 

Ferrars followed him to the bachelor’s study, and heaved a 
sigli of relief as the door closed and was locked behind them. 

Now,” said the Chief, turning toward him, before you say 
a word, look at this.” He took from his pocket a crumj^led 
envelope and held it before the eyes of Ferrars, who read in a 
bold manly hand the name and address of Leah Paget. 

I found it in the fire-place,” the Captain explained, in the 
drawing-room.” 

The drawing-room ?” echoed Ferrars, blankly. 

Yes. I explored it after you left ; evidently, it had not 
been invaded by the fiend. But, noticing that there seemed to 
have been a fire in the grate quite lately, I investigated. I 
found this, poked down beneath the ashes. What do you make 
of it?” 

ni tell you,” said Ferrars, a little later just what I think. 
I have given my warning. And now, what else have you lighted 
upon ?” 

More than enough. The plot thickens. Manager Hor- 
ton came raging in, immediately after you left. The dead girl 
was to have opened at his Theatre tonight.” 

Oh !” 

Yes, and there’s worse to follow. It came out, almost be- 
fore either of us realized the importance of it, that La Belle 
Fabrice, the actress who has been taking us all by storm, is 
also missing, since last night.” 

Ferrars, who had seated himself, sprang to his feet. 

Worse than that,” went on the Chief— there was enmi- 
ty, a secret, between tlie two.” 

Between what two ?” 


BEFORE THE INQUEST. 


^59 


The dead girl, Hortense, and La Belle Fabrice.’’ 

Ferrars stood silent a full minute, then he quietly resumed 
his seat. 

About the inquest,” he said, is that arranged for ?” 

Not quite. I wanted to see you first.” 

Yes?” inquiringly. 

Will you take this case, Ferrars?” 

The English detective looked at him squarely, and for a 
long moment, without opening his lips. 

‘^Oh, I know it"s going to be a tough one,” said the Chief, 
“ and full of complications. Of course, if you take it, you may 
count on me, but only for assistance. I wash my hands of the 
brain work. Manage it in your own way. I’ll furnish you 
men if you like, but I want you to work the case.” 

“ If I should do this,” said Ferrars, slowly, it would be 
only upon one condition.” 

Name it.” 

My connection with it and my personality, must be known 
only to you,” continued Ferrars. 

Well,” said the Cliief, I don’t object to that. I won’t 
object to anything that secures you for this business.” 

I’ll tell you what I will do,” said Ferrars, “ after the in- 
quest.” He got up again and stood before tho Chief. By 
the bye,” he said, ‘^this young man, Quinlan, knows me.” 

What’s that ?” 

Ferrars repeated his statement and also Quinlan’s words to 
him as he was leaving the reception-room. 

I don’t know that you need to be astonished,” said the 
Chief. Quinlan’s been a great traveller, and you’re pretty w'ell 
known. You’ve been pointed out to him, no doubt, sometime 
when he’s been in London. Quinlan’s able to pay.” 


260 


A LOST WITNESS. 


So T understand/^ indifferently. Shall we go back 
now ? By the bye, I dofft want to figure at the inquest ; Fm 
not needed. If I am to conduct this case, I shall want that 
envelope, with Miss Paget^s name, suppressed.” 

Eh ! Oh, you mean at the inquest ?” 

‘‘ Yes.” 

The Chief took out the envelope and handed it to Ferrars. 

Take it,” he said, and produce it at your own time.” 

Ferrars took the envelope, put it carefully away, and then 
stood for a moment seeming to reflect. Finally he said : 

I may as well pass, at the inquest, as a reporter. 1^11 kee[) 
as near you as seems best. But, if afterwards I do not see you 
alone, expect me tonight, at your office. If I come, I shall 
want to go over some of those reports again, and some of your 
notes in the case.” 

Do you mean the Paget case ?” 

“ I mean that. I shall want all you can furnish — all, mind 
— concerning three young men.” 

You-er — what young men ?” 

Quinlan, Max Talfourd, and your friend, the reporter.” 

What ! Polly Cousin ?” 

Yes, if that’s his name. Polly Cousin especially interests 

me.” 

As they emerged from the apartments of the kindly bach- 
elor, Ferrars saw, in the throng about the street entrance, the 
pale face of Sir Felix Wyntoun. The young lord was strug- 
gling to make his way within, and he did not appear to have 
seen Ferrars. 

Go on,” Ferrars whispered to the Captain, and wait for 
me at the door of the vestibule.” 

He moved away as he ceased speaking, and had soon made 


BEFORE THE INQUEST. 


261 


a path for liimselt ti) the side of Sir Felix, who did not see him 
until lie felt a pressure upon his arm. It was the hand of his 
friend, and it was accompanied by a warning wliisper : 

Husli ! don’t speak ; come this way with me.” He drew 
back until they stood against the wall, where they were not so 
likely to be overheard, or become objects of interest. You 
must not remain here,” Ferrars said then. I sent you a let- 
ter half an hour ago. Go home at once, read it, and obey its 
instructions. What sent you here ?” 

A note from Madam Congreve called me to her rooms,” 
said the young nobleman, and she told me. I came to see 
how near the truth — how bad the worst really is.” 

I can tell you the worst, and the best,” said Ferrars. 

But you must not remain here. Hortense Novalis has been 
killed — chopped to death with a dagger ; and her maid has been 
sent out of the world more gently — smothered or chloroformed, 
or both. That’s the worst. Captain Connors has asked me to 
take the case ; and, if, after the inquest, I think I can assist 
justice and serve my friends by so doing, I shall take it. And 
now, my dear fellow, if you don’t want your name to be bla- 
zoned in the newspapers as one of the interested spectators who 
rushed to the scene of the tragedy, etc., etc., you can’t get away 
any too soon.” 

Sir Felix sighed heavily, and Ferrars noted with pain — for 
he was tenderly attached to the young fellow — how pale and 
stricken he looked. 

Courage, my dear fellow,” he whispered, reassuringly ; 

don’t be too anxious. I’ll manage to see you at the earliest 
possible moment, and you will not be kept in suspense an in- 
stant longer than is needful. Go back to the lady, your 
friend. It’s possible that she may be called as a witness, and 


262 


A T^OST WITNESS. 


the maid as well. Perhaps a word of caution would he advis- 
able. I hope they woidt get you up here, but you have been 
so much with the young lady — 

Good Heavens ejaculated the young lord, have they 
already accused her ; have — 

Hush ! They have accused no one. Don’t you see that 
this won’t do? Come now, get back to your friends. And 
if you chance to meet Talfourd — ” 

He’s with Madam Congreve now,” broke in Sir Felix. 
Then tell him that a letter awaits him at his room down 
town ; and that I’ll see him, too, at the earliest possible mo- 
ment. Now there’s an opening in the crowd, and a cab ovor 
the way. Go, and be patient, until we meet again.” 

^^God bless you, Frank !” exclaimed the anxious young 
fellow, and he pressed his friend’s arm between both his hands 
as he turned away. 

Come,” said the Chief, as Ferrars regained his side once 
more, there’s much to be done yet. What shall we do wdth 
Quinlan ? I’ve got some good men here now, and — ” 

Let him go his way, then,” broke in Ferrars, and put 
him under close surveillance.” 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 


THE INQUEST. 

Frederick Quinlan, and a companion, alighted from his own 
coup4, directly in front of the stately entrance to tlie Dresden 
Flats, now thronged by an eager and excited crowd of mor- 


THE INQUEST. 


263 


bidly curious people, and hurried into the anteroom, where the 
body of the French wohia^i, Virginie, had been. 

Owing to the exigencies of tiie case, the body had been re- 
moved, and it now lay near that of the murdered mistress, in 
the still blood-marked and disordered boudoir. The Coronor, 
his jury, and all others essential to the ghastly rite about to be 
performed, were assembled in the reception-room proper, and 
in the drawing-room beyond. 

Entering with his usual self-possessed air, Quinlan took the 
place assigned him, and at once began a survey of the rooms 
in search of the English detective. Twice he scanned the faces 
of those about him, but nowhere could he see that of Ferrars, 
and presently his companion, seated close beside him, touched 
his elbow. 

Are you looking for some one?’^ he whispered. 

Yes,’’ answered Quinlan, in the same tone, but he did not 
explain. 

I think,” ventured the other, it would be well to dis- 
play as little anxiety as possible. You may not be aware of 
it, but your face is showing concern.” 

Thank you,” said Quinlan ; Fm truly indebted for the 
hint.” 

Frederick Quinlan’s companion was known to some there 
as a friend to the young aristocrat, a society man of some dis- 
tinction. He was also known, to a'few, as a keen and success- 
ful lawyer — one who, in spite of his youthful appearance 
and worldly air, was already on his way to renown in his 
profession. Captain Connors, who observed his presence with 
a little surprise, felt sure that he was not there merely as 
Quinlan’s friend, and in this he was right. 

The Chief of Police had worked rapidly, and Quinlan’s 


264 


A LOST WITNESS. 


first glance, while it had not revealed Ferrars, had taken note, 
with some surprise, of Manager Horton, Mr. Traverse, and one 
or two other members of the Fab rice Troupe, whose presence, 
it seemed to him, was not and could not be necessary. 

A little aloof from the Chief and the CorouoFs staff, was 
Polly Cousin. He held in his hand a note-book and pencil, 
and had placed himself among a group of reporters, as if to de- 
fine beyond a doubt the capacity in which he was there. 

In spite of judicious culling and constant watchfulness, the 
rooms were filled, and the presence of so many idle spectators,” 
as he named them to himself, was annoying to Quinlan. He 
mentioned this fact to the Chief, who approached him to ask a 
question and was a little surprised at his manner and his re- 

ply- 

In a business of this kind,” said the Chief, it isn’t always 
easy for us to know who is, and who is not, important or neces- 
sary to the case. It isn’t exactly a kettle-drum, Mr. Quinlan.” 

Quinlan bit his lip, and seeing a smile flit across the face of 
the man by his side, settled back in his place, and gave his 
whole attention to the effort he was obliged to make to seem in- 
terested but not anxious. 

The body of Hortense Novalis had been lifted and turned 
upon the couch, and her limbs, that had rested upon the rug 
before it, had been composed and laid upon the cushions, with 
the long drapery of the train flowing over the couch, and down 
upon the carpet at its foot, in massive richness. The position 
of the head and arms had been changed but little, and the jew- 
els gleamed and sparkled, making the marble whiteness of the 
splendid arms and shoulders more statuesque, and the crimson 
dashes of blood, here and there, more ghastly by contrast. 

One of the Turkish lounges had been brought in from the 


THE INQUEST. 


265 


anteroom, and upon this, in the very attitude in which she had 
lain when Francis Ferrarsdrew away the concealing rugs, re- 
posed the body of the maid, Virginie. 

The room, with all its wealth of color and fabric, with its 
pictures, and gilding, and glowing drapery, had ceased to be a 
place of beauty and repose. Its wild disordei-, its torn and 
broken and blood-stained richness, the daggers upon the floor, 
the blood-marked statuette, the broken vases and bric-a-brac, 
— all combined to make a picture the more hideous because of 
its very mockery of wealth. 

But ghastly as were the surroundings in themselves, they 
were but the framing of a still more woful picture. 

The two women were lying near each other. One, dressed 
in all the trappings of wealth and pride, but with blood-stains 
marring the loveliness of throat and rounded arm, with gaping 
wounds against the satin and jewels and lace, and with a name- 
less horror looking out from the great dark eyes. The other, 
wearing the garb of servitude, — the simple dark garment, the 
trim apron, and bonnets cap, and seemingly asleep and at 
peace with all things. It was a picture so horrible as to baf- 
fle the artist’s brush ; a picture never to be painted ; a story 
never to be told ; a sermon voicelessly preached there and 
never otherwhere, in its fullest meaning. 

The Coroner was a man of intelligence and tact. He was 
naturally well known to the Chief of Police, and the two, af- 
ter some moments together in the boudoir, where they spoke 
in half whispers, came out and took their places. The Chief 
then directed that the portiere be drawn fully open, and he 
placed one officer at the threshold and another within the rooms, 
with instructions to note carefully all movements of such as 
should come forward to view the dead. 


266 


A LOST WITNESS. 


It was a strange investigation, and as a result of the short 
conversation between the Coroner and the Chief of Police, it 
was not conducted altogether in the ordinary manner. 

A little to his surprise, Frederick Quinlan was called as 
the first witness, and, being duly sworn, was interrogated thus : 

I am told, Mr. Quinlan, that you were the first to dis- 
cover the bodies of these two murdered women.” 

I was, apparently.” 

Apparently ?” 

I said ‘ apparently,^ for the reason that the door by which 
I entered was not locked. Other persons might have come 
and gone, I suppose, as I might have done, had I chosen, with- 
out alarming the house. Let me correct myself; I did not 
discover the body of the servant.” 

I see. Will you state how you found the body of the 
young woman ?” 

I had an appointment with M’lle Novalis,” began Quinlan, 
in his usual calm manner. She was to appear tonight 
in a new play in which I had taken some interest. And this 
morning I was to have gone with the lady to a dress-rehearsal. 
A matter of business detained me so that I was, perhaps, fif- 
teen minutes late ; and, knowing the importance of time on 
such an occasion, I drove here in considerable haste. As no 
one responded when I rang, I fancied that the lady had already 
gone, and to assure myself in the quickest way, I turned the 
door-handle. To my surprise the door opened, and I stood for 
a moment upon the threshold. The anteroom was, as you see it 
now, dimly lighted, and I was surprised at the total silence. 
My next thought was that the lady had given me up, and had 
set out in so much haste as to have forgotten to lock her door. 
After a moment’s hesitation I crossed the anteroom, and, put- 


THE INQUEST. 


267 


ting my head between the curtains there/^ — here he indicated, 
li)y a gesture, the hangings that divided ihe anteroom from the 
one in which tliey then were, — called my own name, as if 
announcing myself. As I spoke, I saw that the room was 
empty.^^ 

This room, do you mean 

Yes. I stepped in then, and, through the curtains 
there,’’ — indicating the arched entrance to the boudoir, — I 
caught a glimpse of something white trailing upon the floor. 
The curtains were nearly but not quite closed. I was acquainted 
with tlie appearance of that room, and the gleam of white 
startled me a little. I spoke again, and then crossed the room 
and looked in.” 

He paused a moment and then went on, speaking a little 
faster, as if eager to get it over. 

It needed only a look and a touch to assure myself that 
she was dead, but my first impulse was to call for medical aid. 
I obeyed it by going at once across the street to Dr. Grove, 
whom I knew slightly, and, as soon as I had secured him, I 
found a policeman, and then informed the janitor, whom I met 
as I came in.” 

Is Dr. Grove here ?” As the Coroner spoke he was fit- 
ting on a pair of eye-glasses, and when this was done he looked 
up and nodded to Quinlan his dismissal. 

For the present, sir,” he said. 

Dr. Grove was there and he at once came forward. 

His testimony corroborated all that Quinlan had said. He 
liad hastened across the street, at the summons, and had fol- 
lowed Mr. Qninlan straight through the outer rooms and into 
the presence of death. He had found the body lying half on, 
iialf off, the low divan. One might fiincy that the murdered 


268 


A LOST WITNESS. 


womau, in her death-struggle perhaps, had been lying upon the 
divan, thrown and held there, possibly, and had expired while 
trying to step from the cushions to the flour. There were pit- 
iful indications that she might have been struggling toward a 
kneeling position. On the other hand, she might have fallen 
to the floor, and then struggled to raise herself upon the divan, 
or to her knees. From the position of the limbs and the curve 
of the body, together with the way in which the left arm was 
flung forward, and the grasp of the right liand upon the cush- 
ions, he inclined to the belief that the dying victim had breathed 
her last in a frantic effort to lift herself upon her knees. 

Dr. Grove was a grave man, with a peculiarly fine and sym- 
pathetic voice. He spoke like one who realized the pathos of 
the situation he described ; and the good Coronor drew off his 
glasses, and was seen to pass his handkerchief across his eyes, 
after which he polished his glasses vigorously, and carefully 
replaced them, while the Doctor went on : 

The victim was dead when he arrived, of course. She had 
been dead for several hours. There were half a dozen wounds 
in her throat and breast. Three were deep knife or dagger 
thrusts, two in the throat and a third in the right breast, any 
one of which, alone, would have been fatal. Besides these there 
were two or three lesser wounds in neck and breast, and two 
ugly gashes in the flesh of the right arm, as if they had been 
received while striving to ward off a blow. 

The woman-servant ? No, he had not seen her until later ; 
not until after the arrival of the Chief of Police and the young 
man who came with him.’^ He described the manner in which 
the young man” had drawn their attention to the body of 
Yirginie. Supposing the woman to have been sleeping when the 
murderer approached, the weight of the rugs alone would have 


THE INQUEST. 


269 


been sufficient to have caused death by suffocation. But there 
had been chloroform used also. The odor was quite percep- 
tible when the rugs were withdrawn. Probably the rugs had 
been used as an after-thought, either to conceal the body for a 
time, or to make assurance of death doubly sure. 

How long had the woman been dead ? Quite as long as 
had her mistress. Ten hours or more. He had scarcely 
glanced at the outer rooms as he came hurrying in with Mr. 
Quinlan, but thought they were in about the same order as 
now. The boudoir, where the body lay, was in great con- 
fusion. No ; after looking about that room, he could not say 
that anything had been changed or removed.^’ 

Did you notice,’’ asked the Coroner, when you first came 
in, those weapons upon the floor?” 

Yes, I noticed them both. One, the one that lay almost 
at the head of the couch, was directly in my way as 1 bent 
over the body. It was almost the first thing that I saw dis- 
tinctly. I did not take it up then ; I changed my position in 
order to avoid disturbing it.” 

^^Did you examine it later?” 

I did. AYhen I had looked at the wounds, I took up the 
dagger, being careful to note its exact position before doing so. 
It was undoubtedly the knife which did the deadly work. 
The blood of the victim was upon it, covering it, almost. I 
replaced the knife, leaving it exactly as I had found it.” 

“ There is another dagger. Did you look at that ?” 

“ I did, but did not take it up. That knife has not drawn 
blood. It is blood-stained, but only at the hilt and near it.” 

You observed closely. What was your idea concerning 
this second weapon ?” 

I think the murdered woman must have seized upon it for 


270 


A LOST WITNESS. 


self-defeDse ; that, as she fled before the assassin, she strove 
to ward off tlie attack, with her arm upraised and the dagger 
in her hand. I think that the gashes upon her arm were thus 
made, aud that the blood spurting from those wounds stained the 
hilt of the dagger. As she fell, under the last blow, she let the 
dagger fall. The position of the weapon confirms this theory. 
And that is not all : the blood upon the hilt is, also, the blood 
of the victim.” 

There was a moment of stillness. The Coroner was exam- 
ining some slips of paper in his hand. Dr. Grove stood silent 
and self-possessed in his place. The rooms were very quiet ; 
every word falling from the lips of this witness had been lis- 
tened to with almost breathless attention. 

“ Dr. Grove,” began the Coroner again, did you know these 
two women or either of them ?” 

I did not know them,” 

Had you seen them — either one ?” 

I have seen both, frequently.” 

How and where ?” 

From the windows of my house, and upon the street, as 
they came and went.” 

And is that all ?” 

No. I was called once, to attend upon the lady profes- 
sionally.” 

^^Ah ; how long since?” 

A month ago, I should tliink.” 

What was the nature of the lady’s illness ?” 

It was a nervous attack.” 

Could you not give it a more definite name ?” 

The Doctor smiled slightly. It was an attack of genuine 
hysteria.” 


DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE. 


271 


‘‘Upon that occasion, who was in attendance here?’’ 

“ The maid, who lies there, and a woman whom I scarcely 
noticed, except as slie once or twice got in my way, — a small, 
elderly woman. I have an impression that she was very dark, 
almost swarthy, and with black eyes or hair, perhaps both.” 

“ ^yas there no one else ?” 

“ Only the messenger who came after me, and led the way 
back.” 

“ A messenger ? And who was the messenger ?” 

“ The messenger was a young man,” replied the Doctor, 

“ Doctor, that sounds like an evasion. Did you know this 
messenger ?” 

“ I did.” This admission was made with evident reluctance. 

“ Name him.” 

“ The messenger, sir, was your previous witness, Mr. Fred- 
erick Quinlan.” 



CHAPTER XXXYIII. 

DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE. 

Dr. Grove’s answer produced a sensation. Many faces 
turned to stare at young Quinlan, who did not bear the scru- 
tiny very well. He flushed hotly and a frown darkened his 
face. The flush alone might have meant either embarrassment 
or wrath ; the frown was unmistakable. 

Again the Coroner found matter for consideration in the 


272 


A LOST WITNESS. 


slips of paper in his hand. Then, to the surprise of all, he 
said : 

That will do for the present, Dr. Grove,’^ and beckoned 
to the Chief of Police. When they had conferred together for 
a moment, the Coroner turned to the jury. Captain Connors, 
gentlemen,^^ he said, will tell us what he knows of this af- 
fair, in the absence of the young man, his assistant, who came 
with him here this morning.’^ 

.Captain Connors nodded affably toward the jurymen, as if 
he rather enjoyed the novelty of being his own witness, and 
then related how he had been summoned to the scene of the 
murder, and how he had brought with him an assistant, but 
who, his presence not being considered necessary as a witness, 
had been detailed upon other duty. He described the appear- 
ance of the rooms as he had noted them in passing through 
each, and told how the body lay, thus corroborating the testi- 
mony of Dr. Grove and Frederick Quinlan. He told, also, 
how his assistant, happening to glance toward the anteroom 
after the curtains had been drawn apart, letting in a stronger 
light, had noted the peculiar outline of the piled-up rugs, and 
so discovered the body of the second victim. 

In the hopes of finding something like a clue to the iden- 
tity of the dead,” went on Captain Connors, I made a rigid 
search, in person, through the cabinets, drawers, boxes, dress- 
ing-case, and desk. But evidently some one had been before 
me. Everything was in confusion, and someone had burned 
a lot of papers upon the drawing-room hearth. I found an 
empty j)urse upon the floor of the dressing-room, and two or 
three jewel boxes had been rifled of thei r contents. But other 
cases near at hand, and some of them opened, were left un- 
touched; and none of the gems, probably the most valuable 


DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE. 


273 


in the collection, were taken from the body, as may easily be 
seen. I don’t think it would be wise to argue robbery as the 
motive, unless it appears that the murderer or murderers were 
alarmed and fled before they had finished collecting the spoils.” 

The stopping to cover up that body in the anteroom does 
not look like precipitate flight,” ventured one of the jury- 
men. 

That,” broke in another, might have been done before 
the search for booty was made.” 

The Chief turned again to the Coroner. 

I was about to say,” he continued, that it seemed as if we 
were doomed to disappointment. At every turn the murderer 
was ahead of i.s. I found, in the course of my search, a few 
notes of no importance, and throwing no light upon the sub- 
ject of this person’s identity. They were all addressed to M’lle 
Hortense Novalis, where they were addressed at all, and signed 
mostly with a given name or an initial. Some of them were 
dated Paris, and some London, and they were kept, evidently, 
merely as souvenirs. There is a bank-book, which showed a 
neat account at a certain bank here in New York, and other 
documents proving Hortense Novalis to have been possessed of 
some securities and stocks in London, together with the ad- 
dress of her London bankers and men of business, and two or 
three business letters. These last were in the desk that stands 
in the dressing-room. They were in a shallow drawer quite 
by themselves. As I pulled open the drawer with consider- 
able force, it came out in my hand, and, in a small compartment 
behind it, I saw a paper, folded and flattened so as to fit perfectly 
into the shallow space. It proved to be a sealed paper, with 
a few words written across the back.” 

He took a paper from his pocket and held it up to the 


274 


A LOST WITNESS 


sight of the jurymen. ^^Here it he said, ^^aiid it reads 
thus’’ — he turned it over in his hand and read: ‘^^This 
is the last vVill and Testament of Horteuse Novalis.’ ” 

Again there was a stir of surprise and sensation in the 
room, and a pair of eyes that had been furtively watching 
Frederick Quinlan’s face, saw him flush again, and again frown 
deeply. 

Mr. Coroner,” resumed the Chief of Police, holding out 
the paper, I will ulace this into your hands as documentary 
evidence.” 

But the Coroner shook his head. ^^Keep it,” he said, until 
we have questioned some other witnesses.” And then, as the 
Chief returned the paper to his pocket, he asked, Is that 
all you found. Captain ?” 

That was the end of my search,” replied the Chief If 
there was ever anything of value to us, it was burned upon 
the hearth there, probably last night.” 

When Captain Connors had retired, other witnesses were 
called. 

The lessee of the Dresden Flats testified that the apartments 
of M’lle Novalis had been secured by an agent, who wanted 
them, he said, for a lady who was then abroad, but who 
wished to reside for a time in the American Metropolis. The 
agent had not haggled at the price, and had secured the apart- 
ments, among the most desirable in the building, by paying lib- 
erally in advance. It had been almost a month, as nearly as 
he, the lessee, could remember, before he was informed that the 
apartments were being sumptuously furnished, and that the 
lady and her maid were daily expected. Afterward, he had 
inquired concerning them, and had expressed a little surprise 
that there were no more servants. He had been informed that 


DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE. 


275 


the lady’s meals were served from a French restaurant near at 
hand, and all other services, except those of her maid, were 
performed by servants that came and went at need. Beyond 
this, he could say of his murdered tenant and her maid, nothing 
at all. 

The attaches of the house had little or nothing to add to 
this. The apartments, being upon the first floor, and opening 
conveniently near the main stairway, the occupants had patron- 
ized the elevator so little that they were scarcely known to, the 
boy who guided it up and down, or to the dwellers in the u])- 
per regions, who came and went by that route. 

The custodian of the great main entrance could tell a little 
more. He saw the lady coming and going oftener, of course. 
She never spoke to him, but sometimes smiled or nodded as she 
passed. Now and then, when her door opened for a moment, 
he heard her clear voice or light laughter. He fancied- that she 
was a merry” lady, and quite free and friendly with her maid. 

Did she receive many visitors?” 

No, indeed ; very few, in fact.” 

‘‘Can you tell who these visitors were?” asked the Cor- 
oner. 

The man fixed his gaze upon Frederick Quinlan. 

“ At first, he” — here he pointed to Quinlan — “ was almost 
the only man. He came pretty often.” 

Again the general gaze was bent upon Quinlan. But the 
Coroner w’as not yet ready to make that young man the center 
of interest. 

“Mr. Quinlan was a friend, tlint is understood,” he said. 
“ Are there others who were visitors more or less ?” 

The man glanced about him and finally singled out Man- 
ager Horton, and pointed at him an indicating finger 


276 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Lately/^ he said, I have seeu him come here, two or three 
times, or maybe more.” 

Yes. Are there any others ? — think, now.” 

One evening,” said the man, slowly, there was a young 
lady — a very pretty young lady, and beautifully dressed. I re- 
member her especially, because she came in kind of hesitating, 
and looked around a bit after she got to the first landin’. I 
was just coming down, when she stopped me and asked me if 
Miss Novalis was on this floor. I pointed out the right door, 
and she thanked me. I remember saying to myself that she 
must have been expected, because the door was opened so prompt 
by the lady’s maid. And I remember thinking, too, that she 
was the first lady visitor that I had seen at that door.” 

Again the Coroner was consulting a strip of paper. 

‘‘ Go on,” he said, looking up, as the man ceased speaking ; 

can you describe the lady ?” 

She was very pretty, with a kind of light springing step, and 
I think she had brown eyes, that looked somehow bright and 
full of life. She was small, and carried herself sort of proud.” 

There was a movement near the Coroner which caused that 
official to look up, and he saw that Captain Connors was mak- 
ing his way toward Manager Horton, who was looking eagerly 
toward a group of reporters. 

How long did the lady remain ?” asked the Coroner. 

The lady hadn’t been very long in the room, sir, when a 
young man came. He looked around, too, almost as if he was 
expecting to see some one in the court or vestibule, and then 
he asked if these was the rooms of M’lle Novalis. There wasn’t 
no card on the door at that time ; I remember that very well, 
because the maid asked me to tack one on the next day.” 

‘‘ Yes. Go on.” 


DOCUMENTAEY EVIDENCE. 


277 


Well, the young man rung the bell, and was let in, and 
then, before I’d hardly turned around, along came another one.” 

Another young man ?” 

‘^Yes, sir.” 

. “ Can you describe him ?” 

‘ I don’t need to,” said the man, with a grin. It was that 
young man again,” pointing toward Quinlan. 

Ah ! and did he ring, too ?” 

Yes, he rang. And then, in a minute, the door flew 
open, and the young lady and the other young man came out 
together.” 

Well,” ejaculated the Coroner, ‘^go on.” 

The young man that was with the young lady pulled the 
door shut after him quick like, and he looked pretty serious. 
They all three stood and sort of stared at each other, just a 
minute like, and then they all seemed to recognize each other 
at once, and bowed, and the lady put out her hand to that 
young gent over there, and they all three stood close together 
and talked for a minute, very low and earnest, seeming. Then 
the young fellows bowed sort of stiff like to each other, and the 
young man over there — ” 

Here the Coroner broke in : 

“ That young man is Mr. Frederick Quinlan, and as he 
seems to be coming in for such a goodly share of notice, 
it will be best to speak of him by his name. Eh, Mr. Quin- 
lan ?” 

Thank you,” said Quinlan, it will be an improvement, 
if the gentleman will oblige me.” 

All right, sir,” said the willing witness. Well, Mr. 
Quinlan then touched his hat to the lady, and the lady and her 
young man went down stairs quite fast. Before they wer 


278 


A LOST WITNESS. 


half way down, the door flew open again, and the lady her- 
self — Miss Novalis, you know — was standing there. I heard 
her say something that sounded kind of sharp, though I 
couldn’t understand what it was, and then Mr. Quinlan said 
‘ Hush,’ and stepped inside and shut the door himself.” 

Captain Connors had returned to his place, stopping to 
speak a word to Cousin on his way, after a few whispered 
words with Manager Horton, and he now spoke a word in the 
ear of the Coroner. 

Did you know the young man that went away with the 
lady ?” asked the Coroner, when Captain Connors had drawn 
back to his place. 

^^No, sir. But I’m sure that I’ve seen him about town 
soraewheres.” 

Will you describe him ?” 

Well, he was a good-sized young fellow, and right good- 
looking; taller and broader |than Mr. Quinlan there, and 
darker complected. He had handsome dark eyes and a short 
dark mustache. He carried his head kind o’ uppish, and 
walked like a soldier.” 

That will do for him,” said the Coroner. Would you 
know him if you should see him again ?” 

Yes, sir,” said the man, promptly. 

And would you know the young lady ?” 

‘‘ Yes, I’m sure. I’d know her.” 

At a sign by the Chief, something was passed from the 
hand of Polly Cousin, over the heads of two or three jurors, 
and into the hands of the Coroner. 

It was a cabinet photograph, and, after looking at it through 
his spectacles for a long moment, the Coroner put it into the 
hand of the witness without a word. 



That’s her! ” cried the man. “I’d enow her anywheres.” 

Page 280. 


lUi 





280 


A LOST WITNESS. 


That’s her !” cried the man, after the first look. That’s 
the young lady. I’d know her anywheres.” 

You are sure that is the lady ?” asked the Coroner, sternly. 

Look carefully ; don’t be hasty.” 

“I don’t need to,” persisted the witness. That’s her. 
I know it.” 

At a word from the Coroner, Captain Connors turned and 
beckoned to someone in the background near the group of re- 
porters. 

It was Polly Cousin who came forward in answer to the 
signal. When he had reached the side of the witness, the pic- 
ture was placed in his hand. 

Is that your property ?” questioned the Coroner. 

It is.” • 

“ Do you know the name of the original?” 

^^ The original of that picture,” said Cousin, slowly, is 
known by the name of La Belle Fabrice !” 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

A THREATENING CLOUD. 

What a singular course that Coroner is taking,” whispered 
the companion of Frederick .Quinlan, as the Coroner, having 
dismissed Cousin after one or two questions of little impor- 
tance, called Manager Horton to the stand. 

Perhaps you have observed,” replied Quinlan, drily, that 
the Chief of Police stands just behind ^ that Coroner,’ in more 
senses than one.” 


A THEEATENING CLOUD. 


281 


Mr. Horton,” said the Coroner, will you tell us wliat 
you know of the deceased ?” 

The Manager wore a rueful countenance, and his aggrieved 
state of mind was now and then manifest in his manner. 

I have known M’lle Novalis, personally, but a short time,” 
he said. By reputation, as an actress of ability, I fii st heard 
of her something like a year and a half ago, or possibly a lit- 
tle longer. She had been creating a furore in London, and 
the papers said much of her.” 

Have you any of those papers, or do you recall anything 
printed in them at that time, relative to the personal history of 
the deceased — anything that might be of use to this investi- 
gation ?” 

I do not. She was always spoken of as M^lle Hortense 
Novalis. There was, of course, much laudation of her beauty, 
her dress, and jewels, and equipages. I think, too, I have 
read, or heard, something to the effect that the lady possessed 
a private fortune, independent of her professional income.” 

Mr. Horton, you made the acquaintance of M^lle Novalis 
of late, then, and in this city ?” 

Yes, sir.” 

Will you relate the circumstances ?” 

It could not have been more thtin a month ago, that I re- 
ceived a note from Hortense Novalis, asking me to call upon 
her here. At that time I was very much occupied. It was 
my opening week. Besides, I did not feel sure that this letter 
was not an imposture.” 

May I ask why ?” 

Having read so much of the lady and her successes abroad, 
I took occasion, when last in London, to talk with persons who 
had seen her upon the stage and in the green room. I had got 


282 


A LOST WITNESS. 


it into my head that she was a Frenchwoman, but I was as- 
sured that she was not ; that, in fact, she spoke the language 
very ill and as little as possible.^^ 

As he paused here, the Coroner spoke somewhat impatiently. 

I believe you were speaking of a note from the lady, 
sir— 

Precisely/^ said the Manager. I was about to say that 
having heen assured that M’lle Novalis was not a Frenchwo- 
man, I was surprised to receive a note from her, written, and 
very correctly, in French.^^ 

Ah, in French ?” 

Yes. I may as well add, having vouched for its correct- 
ness, that my knowledge of French is limited. I was obliged 
to have the note translated. The fact that the lady could 
speak, and presumably write English, and that this note had 
been addressed to me in a foreign language, impressed me un- 
pleasantly, and I dictated a note expressing my regret at not 
being able to call upon her at the time she had appointed, and 
a hope that I might have that honor on another occasion. My 
note, like her own, was written in French.’’ 

Again he paused. Manager .Horton, when not goaded by 
his temper, was a deliberate man. 

Go on, sir,” said the Coroner, crisply. 

A few days later, or it may have been a week, I received 
a second note. This one was written in English, and had a 
business ring. She wished to consult me upon a professional 
matter, the note said, and would I call upon her at my own 
convenience ? She hoped it would be soon. About that 
time, one of the ladies of my company was ailing, and I was 
beginning to fear a failure on her part. I may have had this 
in mind when I decided to call upon M’lle Novalis. The 


A THREATENING CLOUD. 


283 


person who was ill, Miss Janet Marshall, occupied the place 
among the ladies of the company next my Star.’^ 

And your ‘ Star/ was she not — 

“ La Belle Fabrice was my leading lady. In fact, the play 
was hers, and a second play, owned by herself, was in prepara- 
tion. In this play — ^ Two Sweethearts’ it is called — there 
was a splendid chance for two ^ leading ladies’ to distinguish 
themselves. It occurred to me, upon seeing that Miss Marshall 
was likely to be ill, that this sudden anxiety of the lady, the 
deceased, might open the way to supply the place of Miss Mar- 
shall, at need.” 

What was the result of your call ?” 

I found that M’lle Novalis had heard of the new play, and 
the rival title roles. She very frankly informed me that she 
wanted to play in ^ Two Sweethearts,’ with La Belle Fabrice.” 

One moment, sir. Did she say especially that she wanted 
to play with La Belle Fabrice?” 

The Manager’s face expressed his reluctance and he hes- 
itated a moment over his answer. She did,” he said, finally. 

Now, Mr. Horton,” said the Coroner, as if he was begin- 
ning to feel ground under his feet, you will please give us, 
briefly as you can, the history of your negotiations with the 
two actresses, M’lle Novalis and La Belle Fabrice.” 

Wavering and desultory as the course of the Coroner had 
seemed, it was evident to those that were most capable of 
drawing correct inferences, that he knew very well what he 
was about. 

The friend and legal adviser of Frederick Quinlan, from sit- 
ting carelessly in his place, looking superciliously bored, 
brought himself to a more erect attitude, and the expression of 
his fiice settled down to a look of attentive interest. 


284 


A LOST WITNESS. 


It was evident to Polly Cousin, who, from being or seem- 
ing a trifle impatient and quite absent-minded, settled down 
to listen, and take notes with grave attention. 

It was also evident to a commonplace-looking man, in a 
shabby grey business-suit, which displayed indications of his 
calling in the shape of ink-stains, that looked as if a careless 
penman had absent-mindedly wiped his pen upon the most con- 
venient portions of his coat and trowsers. He was a stoop- 
shouldered fellow, sallow-skinned, except where his nose 
bloomed dully red, and with a scraggy beard and lank locks 
that touched his greasy coat collar; hair and beard both being 
faintly streaked with grey. His place was a little back of 
Cousin, who, nevertheless, had taken note of him, and classi- 
fied him, according to his custom. 

An underpaid newspaper hack,’’ Cousin’s rating made him. 

Drinks, probably. Has a cringing way, as if he was aware 
of his inferiority. I detest that sort of a man ; it isn’t a man, 
it’s a failure.” 

The failure” was very quiet and unobtrusive, and the red- 
rimmed and evidently weak eyes, were doing him good serv- 
ice. He was, apparently, the most stolid and unimpressed of 
those piTsent while Manager Horton continued his narrative ; 
but no one in that room listened so keenly, nor to better purpose, 
than did the red-nosed man, whom Polly Cousin had dubbed 
a failure. 

Having gotten fairly into the business of his narrative. 
Manager Horton went on volubly, in spite of the Coroner’s 
suggestion of brevity. 

An occasional question, sharply put, showed that the Coroner 
was now upon his mettle. There was no more wavering, and 
though no one could see or anticipate the end, all felt sure that, 
to the Coroner, there was land ahead. 


A THREATENING CLOUD. 


285 


‘‘ Mr. Horton/^ said the Coroner, when he hud reflected a 
moment after the Manager’s story was told, in arguing by turns 
with these two ladies, whose wishes did not harmonize, you 
must have had some glimpses of character, must have formed 
some opinion. When La Belle Fabrice refused to listen to 
your proposition, did she name a reason of any sort ? You 
have simply said that the lady refused.’’ 

That is simply all that she did,” replied the Manager. 

“ Giving no reason, whatever?” 

From the first to the last of my talks with La Belle Fa- 
brice,” said Mr. Horton, she simply said, ^ I will not.’ ” 

You forget, sir, you have said that at last she consented.” 

At the last, Mr. Coroner. On the day before yesterday, 
about six o’ clock, I called upon Fabrice to get her final an- 
swer. I did not see her. Madam Congreve, the lady who 
brought me the news of her absence this morning, was waiting 
for me in Fabrice’s sitting-room. It was Madam who told me 
that La Belle Fabrice had consented,” 

Did you see her again ? I mean Fabrice.” 

Yes. I saw her for a few moments yesterday.” 

How did she appear ?” 

Bather silent and apathetic.” 

But intending to appear with the deceased ?” 

Yes. We talked over some arrangements for the setting 
of the first scene.” 

Was M’lle Novalis’ name mentioned?” 

Yes, necessarily. M’lle was on with Fabrice in that first 
act.” 

How did she speak of M’lle Novalis?” 

Composedly, as if she were an utter stranger.” 

In all your arguments with her, did La Belle Fabrice man- 




A LOST WITNESS. 


ifest, at any time, by word or manner, a dislike of M’lle Nov- 
aiis r 

I never heard her express personal dislike. She spoke of 
her rather as a stranger, of whom, perhaps, she had heard ill- 
report. It was always that she did not wish to appear with 
her upon the stage.” 

Did it occur to you that it might be merely a matter of 
professional jealousy ?” 

Yes. That thought occurred to me.” 

Do you tliink this was the case ?” 

For a moment the Manager was silent ; then he answered, 
with seeming reluctance, No.” 

And yet that would seem a natural conclusion. You had 
a reason for discarding that theory, had you not ?” 

Yes. My reason was simply my knowledge of Fabrice, 
and my experience as her Manager. I have never dealt with 
a more reasonable and fair-minded person. I never knew 
her to manifest jealousy. Besides, when I told her that Mhle 
Novalis, if she did not play with her, would play against her 
at a rival house, she was not in the least concerned. Her one 
wish seemed to be not to be brought in contact with Mhle 
Novalis.” 

Mr. Horton,” said the Coroner, gravely, do you believe 
that these two actresses were strangers to each other ?” 

Again the Manager hesitated. Is my mere opinion ad- 
missible ?” he began. I thought — ” 

Your position, sir,” interrupted the Coroner, ‘Svas one 
that would give even your opinion importance. You were 
able to draw an intelligent inference.” 

Now Manager Horton had an opinion and a reason for it, 
but he saw the rapidly increasing gravity of the situation, and 


A THREATENING CLOUD. 


287 


knew in an instant where his sympathies would range them- 
selves, should the worst come. His hesitation, this time, was 
very brief. 

At this stage of the investigation, sir,’^ he said, firmly, 1 
decline to express an opinion.^^ 

To the surprise of many the Coroner did not press for an 
answer. Instead, he shot out another question. 

Since their residence in this city, had the two ladies met?^’ 

I think not.’’ 

Have you any knowledge of the domestic relations of the 
lady who is called Fabrice? Has she friends or relatives?” 

I do not know.” 

You surely knew her by some other name than that by 
which she is known professionally ?” 

I certainly do not.” 

Did you never hear her speak of her family, of parents, or 
relations ?” 

Never.” 

Has she acquaintances and friends here ?” 

She has made many friends in this city.” 

Have you any idea, hint, or suspicion of her present 
whereabouts ?” 

None.” 

The Coroner turned in his place and exchanged a word with 
the nearest juror. Then he ran his eye over one of the strips 
of paper in his hand, and, after a moment, he turned again tow- 
ard the witness. 

Will you name the person or persons who are the most in- 
timate with La Belle Fabrice, in your company ?” 

Madam Congreve is her companion and most intimate 
friend. Probably her maid comes next.” 


288 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Thauk you, Mr. Horton. For the present, that will do. 
You will oblige me by writing down the names of all the peo- 
ple of your company, and where they may be found.” 

Manager Horton went back to his place, and for some mo- 
ments the Coroner busied iiimself with writing upon slips of 
paper, and whispering with various of the jurymen, each of 
whom seemed to have something on his mind. 

During the last moment that Horton was before the Coroner 
the shabby man, whose manner and appearance had incurred 
the disapproval of Polly Cousin, began to work his way tow- 
ard the window, muttering something about more air and 
light,” and when the Coroner turned his face toward the Chief 
of Police, after his conference with the gentlemen of the jury, 
the shabby man was no longer visible. 

No one missed him, not even Polly Cousin, for the Coroner 
had just recalled Mr. Quinlan to the witness-stand. 


CHAPTER XL. 

THE WEB CLOSING IN. 

Frederick Quinlan came forward for the second time, and 
took his place before the Coroner. He was more at ease than 
at first, and his answers came with greater readiness. 

“ Mr. Quinlan, did you know La Belle Fabrice?” 

I had that honor, but only in a limited degree.” 

How long have you been acquainted ?” 

Only since her sojourn here.” 

Where did you first meet her ?” 


THE WEB CLOSING IN. 


289 


At her hotel. I was introduced by a friend, who had seen 
her in London and who wished to know her better.’^ 

Since your first meeting, have you often seen La Belle 
Fabrice 

I have called upon her less than half a dozen times. I 
have met her oftener in society.” 

Dill you ever meet her here?” 

“ I believe a previous witness has told you that. Upon one 
occasion I did.” 

Will you give us your version of that meeting?” 

I was about to call upon MMle Novalis, when I met the 
two, Mr. Talfourd and La Belle Fabrice, at the entrance. 
We exchanged civilities, and I said the usual thing about re- 
gretting that my coming had not been earlier, etc. The lady 
murmured something about a short call, and a mistake, and the 
gentleman said something about seeing me at another time.” 

And was that all ?” 

No. As they moved away M’lle Novalis opened the door 
and I went in, asking, jestingly, if she had quarrelled with her 
guests. She said in answer, ^ They were not my guests; their 
call was a mistake.’ I said, ^ How is that? Did they mis- 
take you for somebody else ?’ And she replied, ‘ Yes ; they 
thought I was somebody else.’ ” 

The Coroner pondered and made a note. 

You are acquainted, of course, with the young man Mr. 
Talfourd ?” 

Max Talfourd ? Yes, I know him very well.” 

Did he ever speak to you of this encounter ?” 

Yes. He called upon me that very evening, for that pur- 
pose.” 

And what did he say ?” 


10 


290 


A LOST WITNESS. 


He said nothing by way of explanation. His errand was 
simply to ask of me, in the name of La Belle Fabrice, a favor. 
It was in the form of a promise — which I have broken, here 
before yon, and very reluctantly, notwithstanding the occasion. 
Mr. Talfourd asked me, in the name of La Belle Fabrice, not 
to mention to any one the fact of having met her at the door 
of M^lle Novalis.” 

Was the deceased acquainted with La Belle Fabrice ?’’ 

By no means. .On tlie contrary, I once asked her if she 
knew Fabrice, and she denied such knowledge.” 

I am told that she was most anxious to appear in public 
with La Belle Fabrice. Do you know her reason for such a 
choice ?” 

I fancied that it was a woman’s whim. M’lle Novalis was 
a beautiful woman and a fine actress. She had achieved abroad 
just such a triumph as La Belle Fabrice afterward achieved, 
both there and here. I can see how a woman might wish 
to show her power in that way beside her rival, instead of 
against her. Now, that I have begun, I may as well add that 
never in all my conversation with her, did M’lle Novalis ex- 
press any reason for her wish to appear with La Belle Fabrice, 
except that slie did wish it.” 

‘^Mr. Quinlan, you have been a frequent visitor here, T be- 
lieve ?” 

Quinlan nodded. 

You should know something about her other visitors.” 

I know very little. I have introduced two or three of my 
friends. But the lady had no acquaintances in the city, pre- 
vious to her coming here. So she has told me, and I had no rea- 
son to doubt her word. Of late, since this theatrical matter 
has been on the tapis. Manager Horton has called • I suppose 


THE WEB CLOSING IN. 291 

he can tell you how often. And Mr. Van Voort has paid 
several visits, with and without me.’^ 

Mr. Van Voort 

Mr. Van Voort is an Impressario, like Manager Horton. 
He was to have been Malle’s manager in case she appeared in- 
depemlently.” 

Can you think ot no others who have visited here, or called 
on any pretext?’^ 

Quinlan seemed to consider a moment. 

There is a woman/^ he said, finally — an elderly and rather 
shabby personage, whom I have met once or twice coming away 
from here. Once I found her here when I called.” 

Did you learn who she was ?” 

No. I mentioned her to MMle Novalis, and she laughed 
and said, ^ Yes, the beggars have found me out.^ ” He hes- 
itated a moment and then went on. Perhaps I ought to speak 
of a woman who accompanied M’lle Novalis to the Theatre one 
evening. I was not there and did not see her. She was 
described to me as a small and elderly person, with white hair, 
elaborately dressed, and wearing gold-rimmed eye-glasses. I 
did not learn who she was. 

Again there was a halt and consultation. 

Mr. Quinlan,” resumed the Coroner, afier a few words with 
the Chief of Police, when did you last see the deceased, 
alive ?” 

Lnst night. I came here at ten o’clock, I think. It must 
have been eleven, or half-past, when I went away.” 

Did you see anything out of the ordinary in the manner 
of the deceased ?” 

Nothing. She was in exuberant spirits. She had been 
overlooking the gowns she was to have worn in the new play. 


292 


A LOST WITNESS. 


She drew back the curtains of the room there’’ — pointing to the 
boudoir. She was especially pleased with a dinner-dress, 
which, she told me, had just come home. And she said that she 
meant to turn me out, and try on every one of lier gowns for 
the play.” His voice took on a lower tone: “If Dr. 
Grove is not mistaken, she must have put on that white dress 
first, and~it is the dress in which she now lies.’^ 

Where was she, when you left her, at last?” This ques- 
tion was asked after a long moment of silence, and the Coroner’s 
tone unconsciously fell below its ordinary key. 

The witness turned toward the boudoir, pale but composed, 
and with head erect, and quick firm step, walked to the en- 
trance. 

I left here,” he said. The curtains were closed, except 
for the space where she stood, holding them back with one 
hand. The boudoir was lighted, and so were the rooms beyond. 
As I reached the archway there,” — indicating the division be- 
tween the anteroom and the one in which the Coroner sat, — 
those curtains were drawn. As I lifted one, I turned and 
looked back. She was still standing there, smiling, and hold- 
ing back the curtains.” 

And that is how you saw her last?” 

Yes.” He made a movement to return to his place near 
the Coroner. 

Remain there a moment, if you please. Do you see those 
two weapons upon the floor ? The one at or near the couch ; 
the other — ” 

I see them,” said Quinlan, quickly. 

Have you seen them before ?” 

Yes. That one” — ^pointing to the long stiletto-like weap- 
on, near the head of the divan, — that one lay usually upon a 


THE WEB CLOSING IN. 


293 


carved bric-a-brac case, in the drawing-room. The other was 
used sometimes as a paper cutter. I have seen her use it so.'' 

You have said, I believe, that these rooms were all lighted. 
Was the anteroom also lighted?" 

“ Yes, but dimly." 

\ ou have not spoken of the maid. When you came in, 
where was she ?" 

‘‘She admitted me." 

“ And when you went away ?" 

“ When I stepped into the anteroom, she lay where she was 
found this morning, asleep and breathing heavily." 

“ Did you awaken her ?" 

“ No. I wish I had. Instead, I let myself out as quietly 
as possible." 

“ When you went out, did you set the spring lock, which I 
see upon the outer door, so that no one could gain admittance 
without ringing ?" 

This time the blood flew into Quinlan's face. He put his 
hand to his head quickly, like a man suddenly stunned by a 
sharp report. 

“ The night lock ?" he stanuiu iv 1. “ I am afraid — I did 

not." 

The Coroner arose and stood straight before him. 

“ Ah — yes. Now, look : You go out at this late hour, and 
the door is left open. What is there to prevent some one, any 
one, who sees this, from entering, chloroforming the sleeping 
servant, passing on through this room and straight to the draw- 
ing-room. In the drawing-room lies that dagger, easily seen 
in the light. In the drawing-room, let us say, is the lady, 
alone, absorbed in her new toilets. How easy it is, then, for 
the murderer to steal upon her with this slender weapon, to 


A LOST WITNESS. 


294 


creep behind her, and strike the first blow. Then, j)erliaps 
she seizes the other weapon, which lies at hand, and the rest — 
it^s simply a question of the strongest. Mr. Quinlan, do you 
realize llie situation 

Quinlan bowed gravely, his self-possession had returned. 

I do,’’ he said. 

^^Now, in the morning, you come. You were the first, and 
you found the door open.” 

I found it unlocked.” 

Yes. Quite right. Unlocked, but not open. Were the 
lights burning ?” 

Again Quinlan started. Evidently, these were things that 
he had not thought of before. 

^^No,” he said ; there were no lights burning,” 

At this point some one handed a note to the Chief of Police. 
He opened it hastily and read ; 


“ There will necessarily be a postponement, 
ble. 

“P. S. I take tlie case.*’ 


Make it as long as possi- 

F. 


The Chief read this, and then stowed it away in an inner 
pocket with much satisfaction. Almost at ihe same moment, 
the Coroner had turned and was saying to him, 

‘^We must have another hearing. There are important 
witnesses to be called. And we must make an effort to find 
this actress. La Belle Fabrice.” 


WHAT MICHAEL DISCOVERED. 


295 


CHAPTER XLr. 

WHAT MICHAEL DISCOVERED. 

When the Coroner hail announced a postponement of the 
investigation until noon of the following day, and ordered the 
closing of the room in which lay the two murdered women, 
he waited with tlie Chief of Police until the people were out 
of the apartment, clamoring and blocking the way in the court 
without. 

He had given brief instruction to the jury, and in answer 
to a question from one distinguished member, he had defined 
his position and intentions. 

did not press Mr. Quinlan more closely,’’ he said, be- 
cause I saw clearly that by so doing, at this stage in the in- 
vestigation, I should only create prejudices against him ; un- 
necessary prejudice. I believe there will be proven against 
him a pretty clear case of circumstantial evidence. I might 
have pressed him into a recital of all he knows of this dead 
woman. But it has been shown here today, that there is an- 
other person, agahist whom there is also a thread of circumstan- 
tial evidence. Until we have found La Belle Fabrice, and until 
the mystery of her unaccountable antipathy against the de- 
ceased, and her sudden disappearance on the night of the mur- 
der, have been cleared up, I shall not handle young Quinlan 
as if he were already an accused man. As yet, there has been 
nothing to indicate a rupture between himself and the mur- 
dered woman.” 


296 


A LOST WITNESS. 


From the confusion and clamor of the outer court, a police- 
man made his way to the side of the Chief of Police. He had 
been left as guard at the outer threshold witli special orders, 
and one glance at his face sufficed to show that he had some- 
thing in the way of information to impart. 

Captain Connors advanced to meet him, and the two moved 
toward the window furthest from the place where the Cor- 
oner, Dr. Grove, and two or three others were standing. 

Well, Michael,’’ said the Chief, what is it ?” 

It’s this, sir, and I don’t know how much it may be 
worth. A little while ago a woman drove up in a carriage. I 
happened to be looking out as the thing stopped right before 
me. I saw a woman’s face at the window, and I saw, plain 
enough, an astonished kind of look come into it at the sight of 
the crowd in the vestibule. The driver jumped down and 
opened the door, but the woman didn’t offer to get out. She 
only sort of sat back in the carriage, and said something to the 
driver. He turned round and came toward me, and wanted 
to know what was going on. Of course, I told him that there 
had been a murder ; and then, as he went back to tell the lady, 
I just ran down the steps, and up to the carriage-door with him. 
The driver told her just as I came up. I heard him say, 
‘ There’s been a murder in tlie building.’ ^ My,’ says the lady, 
^ a murder ?’ She spoke in a kind of mincing, affected way, 
like some one trying to put on airs ; and as I came up she 
leaned out. ‘ Policeman,’ she says, ^ will you escort me through 
that horrid crowd ? I want to call on a friend up stairs.’ Of 
course I would, and she got out and told the driver to wait. 
When she struck the pavement, she shook herself and looked 
herself over, like an old bird ruffling itself. She was short, 
and had lots of white frizzly hair, and big gold-rimmed eye- 


WHAT MICHAEL DISCOVERED. 


297 


glasses. She was dressed and ruffled to kill, and she took hold 
of my arm, when we came up the steps, as if she was a girl of 
sixteen, and two timid for any use. I couldn’t help grinning to 
myself — ” He stopped and grinned afresh at the remembrance. 

Go on, Michael ; get to the point,” said the Chief, mildly. 

Well, sir, we came up stairs and into the court, and I’m 
blessed if she didn’t make straight for these rooms.” 

‘‘ Eh !” The Chief was now wide awake. 

Yes, sir. When I saw what she was about, I says, ‘ I 
guess you can’t call there today. Ma’am.’ She hadn’t noticed 
the officer at the door till then. ^ This is the place where has 
been murder,’ I says. If she hadn’t had hold of my arm I might 
not have noticed so plain that she give a big start, almost a 
jump, when I spoke. But she just clutched at my arm tighter 
than ever, and I could feel her a-shaking all over. She braeed 
herself up in a minit, and she began to peer at the card on the 
door through her glasses. ‘ My,’ she says, ‘ is it here — who — 
who is it?’ I said that it was the French actress. Miss Nov- 
alis, and her maid — both of them. And then she almost 
screamed out, ‘ I — I — have made a mistake,’ she says. ^ My 
friends must be on the upper floor. I — I don’t know these 
people.’ She turned round then and let go of my arm. Her 
face was ghostly pale through her powder and paint. ‘ I’ll go 
up in the elevator,’ she says. ‘ I’m much obliged to you.’ I 
went to the elevator with her, and I gave the boy a wink and 
went back to speak to the officer at the door. Just then a 
man came out from here, and he stopped, as I was saying to 
the officer that I’d guessed I’d just look after that woman a bit. 
He stopped, the man, I mean, with his back to us, but I kind of 
spotted him — he was trying to hear what we said.” 

How did he look ?” 


298 


A LOST WITNESS. 


‘‘ He? Oh, shabby and middle-aged ; kind of an inferior, 
cringing-acting cliap.’^ 

Go on,^^ said tlie Chief. 

Just as I expected, when the elevator came down, I saw 
that tlie woman was in it. I goes straight down stairs, and 
got to tlie ground floor just as she was crossing the vestibule 
toward her carriage. She was hurrying her best, all but run- 
ning, and she didn’t see me, she was so bent on getting into 
her carriage. As she was stepping in, and while her back was 
turned, I just ran down tlie steps and swung myself onto the 
box. The driver looked a little surprised, but I motioned him 
to keep mum, and he did. I was afraid she might lead me a 
chase, but she only rode as far as 42d Street, and, turning there, 

stopped at the V -Hotel. I slid down from the box, on the 

ofl* side, before she got out, and she didn’t see me. But as I 
dodged around behind the carriage, I happened to look right 
inside of a cab just passing, and that shabby man who I had seen 
come out of these rooms, was in it. I guess he didn’t see me, 
for a little further on he stopped and got out. I wanted to get 
back here according to orders, so I gave the tip to No. 
94, who was on his beat near the place. But I kept an eye 
upon the shabby fellow, and before' I started back here I saw 
him go into the office of the hotel, as bold as you please.” 

Is that all ?” asked the Chief. 

Again the face of the man broadened into a sly smile. 

Not quite. I thought I was getting back here lively, but 
I hadn’t been here more than a minit, when I happened to 
turn round, and there was my shabby man, looking as if he had 
never been anywhere else.” 

^^Umph!” ejaculated the Chief. And what became of 
him ?” 


WHAT MICHAEL DISCOVERED. 


299 


He^s just gone. That chap ain't so dull as he looks. He 
ain't a ‘special ;' I know every one of them. But he’s fly, if 
he is on a wrong scent just now. About two minutes ago I saw 
him set off shadowing Polly Cousin 

“ Shadowing Cousin !" Across the face of the Chief came a 
new light, — the light of recognition, — and his thoughts went 
naturally to the note now nestling in his vest-pocket. “ I guess 
he will turn out all right, Michael." 

It was as Michael had said. The man with the shabby 
clothes and the slouching gait, with the red nose, dull eyes, un- 
kempt beard and hair, had set out at the close of the first 
sitting of the Coroner's inquest, at the heels of Polly Cousin. 

As the reader has no doubt guessed, the shabby man was 
Francis Ferrars, and his reasons for taking, at this time of 
complications and cross-purposes, an interest in the movements 
of Polly Cousin, were briefly these : 

Ferrars had listened with keenest interest to the history of 
the “ Paget Case," and had arrived at one prompt conclusion : 
Somewhere, in the workitig out of this mystery, — for the sud- 
den and unexplained return of Leah Paget had not made it 
a less mystery in his eyes, — there was a weak place. Not in the 
working out of any theory or clue ; he was convinced of that. 
All that had been proposed and undertaken, had been thor- 
oughly done. If there had been an error it was not of neglect, 
but of intent. He could see but one explanation for such a 
failure, under such circumstances. • Somehow, somewhere, by 
some one, a clue had been dropped, covered up, and then 
guarded. And it had been done, all of it, by a cool head, a 
skilled hand. 

In the Chiefs narrative there had been, naturally, much of 
Polly Cousin, and much of him also in the notes and reports. 


300 


A LOST WITNESS. 


At the time of hearing the story of the search, Ferrars had 
not seen Cousin, but at the inquest, accident had revealed him. 
He had heard a reporter beside him address a pale, preoccupied 
young man as Polly, and then as Cousin, and the pale young 
man had answered to the name. 

During their drive from the office of the Chief to the scene 
of the murder, Captain Connors had remarked once and again 
upon the look and manner of Cousin, and wondered at the 
cause. Ferrars, upon seeing him in the presence of the Cor- 
oner, had noted the same look and preoccupation, and some- 
thing more. He had read, in the tense lines about the mouth, 
and in the self-forgetful eyes, strong mental })ertarbation, })er- 
sonal anxiety, that could not have been called forth by the 
scene about him, provided he were, as he declared himself to 
be, a stranger to Hortense Novalis. He had seen, too, in his 
look, in histone, in his words, when he came forward to iden- 
tify the photograph of La Belle Fabrice, that he was no friend 
of the absent and already more than half-suspected actress. 

The day was nearly spent, and there was yet much to be 
done. But before he left the scene of the inquest, the English 
detective had decided that his first attention should be given 
to Mr. Cousin, Professional Reporter and Amateur Detect- 
ive.^^ 


A.N OPEN-HANDED GAME. 


301 


CHAPTER XLII. 

AN OPEN-HANDED GAME. 

Tlie task of following Cousin, to such a man as Ferrars, was 
far from difficult. The preoccupied reporter took a cab, never 
dreaming of being shadowed. Ferrars, in another cab, fol- 
lowed, and found time for some much-needed thinking. 

The earliest evening issues of the newspapers were out ; and 
industrious newsboys were already crying shrilly : 

’Ere^s your pa-pers. All about the — big mur — der in 
the Dresden Flats. Full perticklers,” etc. 

Cousin’s first thought, before having taken his place among 
his brother reporters at the inquest, was to supply the CaW^ 
with a characteristic version of the facts, all that was then 
known, through the convenient telephone. And Ferrars was 
not surprised to note that his game was not going direct to the 
office of that vivacious newspaper. 

It did surprise him a trifle, however, to note that Cousin 
emerged from his cab at the door of the Monitor” — a morn- 
ing paper of wide circulation. It confirmed him, as well, in 
his belief that in watching Cousin he was not throwing away 
valuable time. 

After leaving the Monitor,” the two cabs made a swift 
round of calls. At the end of an hour and a half, Cousin’s cab 
made a short halt before a cafe, where he hastily refreshed him- 
self. 

During the hour and a half. Cousin had made brief calls 


302 


A LOST WITNESS. 


upon half a dozen newspapers, and now while he ate and drank 
hurriedly, standing up beside a high counter in the cafe, Fer- 
rars — himself possessing a goodly and fast-increasing appetite — 
made this memorandum in a tiny book with an attached pen- 
cil : 

Mem. To find out Cousin’s business at the newspaper 
offices.” 

It was growing late, and darkness was falling, when Cousin 
came out from the cafe and again set out, still followed by the 
patient detective. 

When Cousin stopped again it was at the door of a quiet house 
in a quiet street, where he occupied a modest pair of rooms, in 
which he slept and worked and rested, eating, in true Bohem- 
ian fashion, at such restaurants as suited the humor or con- 
venience of the motnent. 

Here he dismissed liiscab, and here, too, after a few min- 
utes of waiting inside the veliicle, Ferrars dismissed his. But 
he did not leave the locality, nor lose sight of tlie sti'eet door 
behind which Cousin had vanished. He believed that the 
reporter would soon sally forth again, and, darkness having 
fallen, he grew bolder, and hovered very near the dwelling, 
determined not to be baffied by dark house-fronts and dimly- 
lighted streets. 

At the end of fifteen minutes his patience was rewarded. 
Cousin re-appeared and set out on foot, at a rapid pace, up town. 
After some moments he stopped, and hailed a passing horse-car. 
Ferrars, after following it briskly for more than a block, 
boarded it also, remaining upon the platform at the rear, where 
he could see Cousin seated inside directly under the rays of 
the dim illuminator. Cousin had made some changes for the 
better in his toilet, but the preoccupied look was still upon his 


AN OPEN-HANDED GAME. 


303 


face, and Iiis pallor, it seemed to Ferrars, had increased. From 
tim^i to time lie consulted his watch, as if impatient of the slow- 
movmg car. When he finally arose and rang the bell, the keen- 
eyed detective took note of his look of relief, and the nervous 
haste of his movements. 

Upon leaving the car. Cousin walked swiftly onward for a 
block, and then began to slacken his pace. They weie now 
upon a street built up on either side with tall stately blocks and 
dwellings, — an aristocratic street, smoothly paved, broad, and 
well lighted. 

For two more blocks Cousin kept on, slowly now, and with 
evident hesitation as he neared the flight of white stone stejis 
leading up to a door a little back from the street, and approached 
through a low iron gateway. From the stained glass on either 
side and above the doorway, a soft light was visible ; and from 
windows at one side, a broad band of light glowed across the 
narrow lawn and out upon the pavement. Just outside of this 
band of light tlie detective stopped, while Cousin rang the bell 
and waited at the top of the broad flight of steps for admittance. 

Instantly, almost as if a guest was expected, the soft glow of 
the hall-lamps increased, and then the door swung open, and a 
woman-servant appeared and disappeared, as Cousin stepped 
within and the door closed. 

Then, by sort of instinct, the detective moved a few paces for- 
ward, and stood at the very edge of the band of light. Sud- 
denly a shadow crossed it, and in the next moment he was in 
a position to see, through half-drawn curtains, a woman ap- 
pear — a woman tall and slender and stately, with trailing gar- 
ments of black, and with a fair face, crowned by a glory of 
golden hair. How clearly she stood out against the glowing 
background ! It was really but a half dozen steps from pave- 


304 


A LOST WITNESS. 


ment to window,' and but half a dozen more froni the window 
to the place where the fair woman stood. To the watcher out- 
side it seemed even nearer. Il seemed so near, that instinctively 
he shrank back, lest he, too, should be seen. 

Again there was a shadow across the line of light, and then 
— yes, it was Polly Cousin who had entered. The lady stood 
still in her jdace beneath the curtains, but her two hands went 
out in a gesture of welcome, and were taken by Cousin and 
held, while he bent toward her and seemed to be speaking 
rapidly. 

For a moment they stood thus; then the hands of the lady 
seemed to withdraw themselves from his grasp, and she came 
down the room, walking, it seemed, straight forwaid in the 
line of light and toward the window. She put up her hand 
and took hold of the curtain. For an instant she stood there 
moveless, not looking out, but, apparently, thinking ; and the 
watcher outside had time to see that her face was very lovely, 
and very grave. Then the curtain closed, and Feri-ars was 
standing alone without, with nothing to do but retrace his steps 
as best he could. 

As he was about to do this, a coup6 came rapidly around the 
nearest corner, and, before he had taken half a dozen steps, it 
had stopped at the gate through which Cousin had so lately 
passed. 

Naturally, the detective, standing in the shadow, turned and 
waited to observe who was the latest arrival. 

Like one accustomed to the way, the occupant of the coupe 
stepped quickly out, and, without a word to the driver, went 
briskly in through the gate. The lamps of the vehicle were 
aglow, but, so quick were the movements of the man who alight- 
ed, Ferrars could only see that he was tall, well made and well 


AN OPEN-HANDED GAME. 


305 


dressed. The face was turned away, but there was something 
about the half-seen and swiftly-receding figure that struck him 
as oddly familiar. 

As the newcomer ascended the s(e])s, the w^atcher drew a 
step nearer. This time the door did not open so promptly. 
But when it did, Ferrars recognized at once, in the young man 
standing under ihe full light of the hall-chandelier, the one 
who had occupied, for the past forty -eight hours, so large a 
jdace in his thoughts. Max Talfourd ! 

It was with a start of surprise and some self-congratulation, 
that Ferrars drew a step still nearer — so near in fact, that he 
run some little risk of being seen, and near enough to hear the 
words spoken by the maid, whose voice, not loud but high- 
keyed and clear, was more distinct than the mellow tones of 
Talfourd. 

^^She had not been well all day.^’ This much he heard 
but without catching the name. Not at all well, but she 
would see ; and would he come in 

Talfourd shook his head and remained in the doorway, 
while the maid-servant vanished. 

There was something odd in all this, thought Ferrars, 
— something like respectful familiarity in the maid’s address, 
and surely some unconventional familiarity in the attitude of 
Talfourd, as he leaned against the carved door-posts. Ev- 
idently he was not sure of an entrance, and Ferrars, noting thi', 
thought fast. 

Here before him was a man who was, unconsciously per- 
haps, being encompassed by a web, the meshes of which might 
close to crush and ruin the victim. But for him, Ferrars, the 
picture and the letter, reposing now in his pocket, might be in 
the hands of the Coroner, and the name of Max Talfourd be 


306 


A LOST WITNESS. 


bandied about, with that of Frederick Quinlan, as a possible 
murderer. To save this man, the friend of his friend, iie had 
crossed tlie ocean. And now, here was Fate bringing them 
together in unexpected places ! Wliat had Max Talfourd, his 
client, and the lover of Le:di Paget, to do with Hortense Nov’^- 
alis? and Polly Cousin? or with the lady, who, evidently, by 
her reception of him, was Cousin’s friend ? 

The detective’s thoughts flew fast, and, by the time the maid 
was back with her answer, his mind was made up. 

It was a negative answer, and Ferrars only caught the last 
few words — something about the hope of being better; able to 
see him tomorrow. Then Max turned and came down the 
steps, less hurriedly than he had ascended them. 

Before he had lifted his foot from the last of the flight, Fer- 
rars was at the gate. When Max came up he put out his hand, 
and said, in a tone too low for the driver to hear : 

Mr. Talfourd, one moment, please. This is a lucky ac- 
cident. I have a message of importance from Mr. Ferrars.” 

Max stepj)ed back a pace, and seemed trying to scan his face 
through the darkness. Then he called to the driver, John, 
tiii-n your horse around.” It was a clever thought, and Fer- 
rars smiled his admiration. Who are you ?” added Max, as 
the driver gathered up his reins to obey. 

Softly,” murmured the other. Don’t disown me because 
of my toggery. I’m Ferrars, and I want you to take me in 
and go with me straight to the rooms of Sir Felix Wyntoun.” 

As the carriage turned about, and the rays of the moving 
lamps fell upon the face he turned toward them, for the ben- 
efit of Max, that young man started and drew back. But a 
look straight into his eyes, from orbs that were now neither 
dim nor weak, in spite of their circling rims of red, reassured 


AN OPEN-HANDED GAME. 


307 


him, and he said, after a brief hesitation, and for the benefit of 
the coachman ; 

Why, to be sure ! Glad to have met you. Get in with 
me, by all means.’’ 

Thank you,” said Ferrars, in double meaning ; I’m glad of 
the opportunity.” 

As they seated themselves and were driven rapidly town- 
ward, Ferrars said to himself. 

The die is cast. Now it must be, between us two, an open- 
handed game. Be he guilty or innocent, I am committed to 
this man, to play this game out, to solve the problem, so far 
as he is concerned, with cards on the table.” 

For a few moments they rode on in silence ; then Ferrars 
spoke. Do you know the hour ?” 

Max started as if from a reverie. 

No,” he said ; and then — We can easily tell.” He pro- 
duced a match, struck it, and held it for Ferrars to consult his 
watch, while by its light he scrutinized the make-up of the de- 
tective with a curious look of interest and amusement. 

It’s early yet,” said Ferrars ; only half-past eight. I 
have not broken my fast since luncheon time, and a hasty lunch- 
eon at that. Can you take me some place where I can eat, 
and talk with you as well ? The more modest and inconspicu- 
ous, the better. I want to get out of this disguise, too, as soon as 
possible. I’ve an engagement for half-past nine. Like your- 
self, I mean to call upon a lady.” 

While he talked, Ferrars was wondering, Does he know 
that Leah Paget is found ?” 

“ I know the very place,” said Max, cordially. I shouldn’t 
mind joining you. But you will have to identify yourself. I 
don’t more than half believe in you yet.” 


308 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Oh, I’ll vouch for myself,” said Ferrars, lightly, and 
explanations will be in order. Do you know, if you hadn’t 
dropped down upon me, come to the rescue as it were, I should 
have been lost.” 

“ JSTo, really ?” said Max. I suppose I must not ask you 
how you ever got up there ?” 

I’m willing to be catechized over our chops or steak,” replied 
Ferrars ; and to catechize.” 

I’ll do my share of confessing,” replied Max, lightly. 

Tlieir fices were dimly visible to each other through the 
darkness, but, as Max spoke, the detective noted the fine mel- 
low tone, and said to himself, The fellow has a rare voice; a 
shade more of softness and sweetness would make it too fine.” 
Ferrars had “ ideas” about voices. 

I wrote you a note,” he said, after a moment of silence. 

Am I to suppose that you did not receive it?” 

I have not seen it,” replied Max. Where did you send it 
— to the club ?” 

No. It was wi’itten in great haste, and I‘used the address 
that came first, as I had written them in my note-book, — your 
home address.” 

Then I dare say my father has received it; our names are 
the same, and unless — ” He broke off abruptly to ask, Was 
it anything special ?” 

Well, it was rather urgent. Have we far to go ?” 

No,” replied Max, we are just arriving.” He leaned for- 
ward to give an order to the driver, and in a moment they 
whirled around a corner, and the coup4 came to a sudden stop. 

Here we are,” said Max, springing out. We’ll have a 
private room, and—” to the driver, John, you will wait.” 


309 


NOT ACCOUNTED FOR/’ 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

NOT ACCOUNTED FOR.” 

Ferrars said little, when they were seated together in a tiny 
room, until something between luncheon and a hasty dinner, 
which came up promptly, was set before them, and they liiid 
dismissed the waiter. 

Max had been very busy scanning the disguise of the detect- 
ive, and he openly expressed his surprise and admiration. 

Oh, it’s nothing,” said Ferrars, carelessly. It’s an art, 
like many otlier things. Master the details, and you’d be sur- 
prised at the simplicity of it all. We mustn’t waste words now, 
Mr. Talfourd, and I want to ask some questions. I wish you 
would take for ^granted their well-meaning and their perti- 
nence, even when you don’t quite comprehend.” 

I’m too much at your mercy, Mr. Ferrars, not to do that, 
and too anxious for your help, besides.” 

Then, I’ll take you at your word. Of course, you have 
heard of the double murder ?” 

Yes, of course. I don’t think I would have gone wild 
over M’lle Novalis or her acting, but it’s a shocking thing. Did 
you ever see her ?” 

I saw her today” — with his eyes upon the other’s face. 

Oh ! Then, of course, you’ve been at the inquest ?” Max 
began to look honestly puzzled. 

Did you know Hortense Novalis ?” asked the detective, ig- 
noring the implied question. 


310 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Yes and no. I met her once, under rather peculiar cir- 
cumstances.’^ 

Are you willing to state them ?” 

I can’t,” answered Max, simply ; it’s the affair of anoth- 
er.” 

Oh ! and you’re under a promise?” 

Max looked his surprise. Really !” he began, I don’t 
see — ” 

Ferrars stopped him with a gesture. One moment,” he 
said. I have been at the inquest — I’ve taken the case.” 

Pardon me. Do you mean that you have pledged your- 
self to find the murderer of Hortense Novalis and her maid ?” 

Ferrars nodded. 

Max Talfourd’s face plainly spoke his displeasure. 

And what, then,” he began, hotly, am I to expect ? Mr. 
Ferrars, do you count the finding and saving of such a girl as 
Leah Paget, if she is yet alive, or the clearing-up of the mys- 
tery and avenging her, if she is dead, a less important, a less 
fine deed, than finding the murderer of sucli a woman as Hor- 
tense Novalis ? We have a city police especially trained for 
that work.” 

So I have been told,” replied Ferrars, drily. What if 
I should say that the road which leads to the solution of one 
of these mysteries will probably end in the other ?” 

I should say,” said Max, with a stern face, that it were 
utterly impossible.” 

Then you would say a very unwise thing, and might, some 
day, be constrained to take it back. I don’t think you need 
hesitate about telling all you know of Hortense Novalis ; one- 
half has already been told, before the Coroner’s jury, by the 
janitor.” 


NOT ACCOUNTED FOR.' 


311 




The janitor ?’^ repeated Max, as if doubting the evidences 
of his ears. Wliat can the janitor, any janitor, know about 
a matter — He stopped short, and sat staring at Ferrars. 

All the janitor knows is that, on a certain day, a lady — a 
very pretty young lady — called upon Hortense Novalis ; that, 
very soon afteiyyou called also, and that, very soon again, 
yon came away together, yourself and the pretty young lady. 
That, as yon were about to leave, Mr. Frederick Quinlan came, 
and you exchanged greetings, hastily and somewhat cavalierly. 
Mr. Quinlan has also testified, and no doubt has given the 
gentlemen of the jury the benefit of his rushlight. I did 
not stay to hear Mr. Qninlaifs last testimony, knowing that I 
would have a verbatim report of the same, and of all the other 
proceedings. Shall I tell yon about the inquest Max 

bowed his head. He was bursting with displeasure. 1^11 
have to make it brief,’^ said Ferrars. But I’ll try to have 
it clear.” 

And brief and clear it was. All was told concerning the 
finding of the bodies, the survey of the rooms, and the inquest 
up to the time when Ferrars withdrew, — all but the finding 
of the letter signed Max, and the photograph under the pil- 
low, and the envelope found in the ashes of the grate. 

When all was told. Max Talfourd sat looking squarely into 
the face of ihe narrator — an image of amazement, and of noth- 
ing else. When he spoke it was the turn of Ferrars to be sur- 
prised. 

^‘By Jove !” he ejaculated, this will be a terrible blow to 
Sir Felix.” Evidently, for the moment. Max had forgotten 
his own troubles in those of his friend. 

‘‘Yes,” admitted the detective. 

“ Does he know ?” asked Max. 


312 


A LOST WITNESS. 


In part — not so much, however, as I have told you.’’ He 
waited a moment for the next word from Max, but that young 
man sat silently before him, evidently lost in serious thought. 

I think you must see, now, why it would be well for you to 
tell me everything you can concerning that visit to Hortense 
Novalis ; your part in it and hers.” 

By ‘her’ you mean, do you not. La Belle Fabrice?” 

“Yes.” 

Max Talfourd leaned across the table and looked earnestly 
into the face of Ferrars. 

“ Mr. Ferrars,” he said, “ I can’t do it ; not until I am 
sure that I shall not be doing her an injury by speaking out. 
For my own part in that affair, I care little. It was my first, 
last, and only visit to that place, — the only one time that I ever 
exchanged a word with Hortense Novalis. But I won’t break 
a promise until the reason for keeping it is removed. I’m 
sorry that I can’t help you, but I must see Sir Felix and Fred 
Quinlan, before I open my lips upon that subject.” 

Ferrars got up and stood before him. 

“ I have told the story with some reservations,” he said, 
slowly, while he watched the face of Max for any sign of alarm 
or surprise. “ The part that I have held in reserve concerns 
you closely.” 

Max started. “ Ah, yes !” he said, “ something about — about 
— about — ” 

“ About the possibility of finding one solution for the two 
cases. Mr. Talfourd, I have not had this matter of Miss Pa- 
get’s disappearance long under advivSement, but I have noted 
one coincidence. You see, I have already gone over the re- 
ports and the notes in the case with Captain Connors. Has 
it occurred to you that Miss Leah Paget disappeared upon the 


313 


NOT ACCOUNTED FOR.” 

night that you made this mysterious first and last call, in com- 
pany with La Belle Fabrice, upon Hortense Novalis ?” 

Max was staring at him dully ; he was now in that condi- 
tion when he would accept any surj)rise, and reply to any ques- 
tion, quite stolidly. He was like a man half dazed and strug- 
gling with his memory. 

No,” he said. 

And are you aware,” went on the detective, mercilessly, 
that, during the search for the missing young lady, you have 
been constantly under surveillance by the police, both you and 
young Quinlan ?” 

No,” uttered Max again. 

Tlien, of course you are not aware that upon the records 
of the case, you stand as unaccounted Jor on that night? I 
think I can quote the record. It reads thus : ^ Up to the pres- 
ent date, the whereabouts of Maxwell Talfourd and Frederick 
Quinlan, on the night of the disappearance, and between the 
hours of seven o’clock and midnight, have not been accounted 
for.’ ” 

For a long moment Max sat staring straight before him, the 
dazed look still on his face. But at last his brow cleared and 
his eyes lighted up. He arose and stood before Ferrars, grave 
and self-possessed. 

I’ve been blind and a fool !” he said. Mr. Ferrars, 
pardon me, and do not throw me over yet. I must see Sir 
Felix and Fred Quinlan. I cannot say more now.” 

When you have seen them, Mr. Talfourd, and are ready 
to talk freely with me, I will show you the link which connects 
yourself, and perhaps Miss Paget, with this case of most foul 
murder. As I have said, I have taken the case ; otherwise, I 
could not do what I am doing now out of regard for you. I 


314 


A LOST WITNESS. 


am disposed to be your friend, and I shall spare you all I can 
of unpleasant notoriety. But you must be frank with me, 
perfectly frank.^^ 

When I am able to open my lips, I shall be as frank as 
you please,’^ replied Max. But you are speaking now, Mr. 
Ferrars, in riddles.” 

So it seems. May I ask a question or two upon another 
topic ?” 

You may.” 

“ Do you know Cousin, the reporter ?” 

know him, yes. A nodding acquaintance, nothing 

more.” 

Is be a society man ?” 

Cousin ? I should think not ; at least, I have never heard 
of him or met him anywhere.” 

Is he, in any sense, a ^ ladies’ man ?’ ” 

I know Mr. Cousin as an able reporter; pushing, not too 
well bred but clever ; and also as an amateur detective of some 
ability. Nothing more.” 

Thanks, for so much. Now bear with me. I want to ask 
you the name of the lady whom you called on tonight.” 

Max looked his astonishment but answered promptly. 

The name of the lady is Mrs. Sara Volney. She is the 
widow of Gregory Volney, a cousin of my mother’s.” 

Is Mrs. Volney an elderly person ?” 

By no means. Mrs. Volney is young and Very beauti- 
ful.” 

Thank you, Mr. Talfourd. When do you expect to see 
Mr. Quinlan ?” 

Immediately. I am pretty sure to find him at home to- 
night.” 


A BOOTLESS QUEST. 


315 


1 should think so. Can yon contrive to get a note into 
his hands, in such a way that lie will not suspect that it comes 
from yon 

Easily. I can give it to a messenger on the way.^^ 

i\Ir. Q,ninlan must not know that we have met, yon un- 
de I'stai id 

Certainly not.’^ 

And when shall I see yon again ?” 

The sooner the better — after I have seen Quinlan and Sir 
Felix.” 

Tlien I will communicate with yon as soon at I am at lei- 
sure. By the way, have yon had any word from the Pagets to- 
day?” 

No,” said Max. And Ferrars knew that Mrs. Paget was 
keeping her word to him. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

A BOOTLESS QUEST. 

It was half-past nine when the English detective ajipeared 
in the rooms of Sir Felix Wyntonn. In the interval, he had 
dropped his shabby garb, with its accompanying ai tistic facial 
touches, and was the original, quiet, fine-mannered Ferrars.' 
Besides accomplishing this transformation, he had written a 
letter of excuses and explanations, to the Chief of Police. 

He found Sir Felix, wobegone and anxious, restlessly pac- 


316 


A LOST WITNESS. 


ing the floor, an unlighted cigar gripped nervously between 
his teeth. 

Oh, here you are at last T’ was his greeting. I thought 
something had happened to you. By Jove, Pm awfully cut 
up, Ferrars !’^ 

That won’t do, my dear fellow. You must not show the 
white feather. Come, have you prepared the way ? Pve a 
carriage at the door.” 

Sir Felix caught up his hat. “ Yes, I’ve prepared the way,” 
he said, an hour ago or more. They’ll be only too glad to 
talk with you. Madam Congreve is in mortal terror of a sum- 
mons to appear before the Coroner.” 

In his note to Sir Felix, posted in the forenoon while on 
his way to the home of Abner Paget, Ferrars had instructed 
his friend to call upon Madam Congreve, and prepare her for 
an interview. Sir Felix was only to name him as a friend 
who might be able to serve them, and who was to be trusted, 
and to make an appointment for the evening, leaving the re- 
sult to Ferrars and to circumstances. This note Sir Felix did 
not read until after his visits, first to Madam Congreve and 
then to the scene of the double murder, whence Ferrars had met 
him, and sent him away with a word of caution for future use. 
From the house on Lexington Avenue he had gone back to 
Madam Congreve, and so the letter and the appointment had 
both been delayed. Sir Felix, coming home to dine, there 
found his letter, reading it and then dining in feverish haste, 
to rush back, for the third time that day, to Madam Congreve, 
in whom he had found both friend and consoler. 

He told Ferrars these things as they drove onward, and 
added, Manager Horton has been there. He told us about 
the inquest. Madam Congreve almost quarrelled with him. 


A BOOTLESS QUEST. 


317 


She blames him for urging Fabrice beyond endurance. I 
think the Manager himself is conscience-stricken.’ 

Has Madam expressed an opinion ?” asked Ferrars. 

About what ?” 

The probable reason for the disappearance of her friend ?” 

Madam is as much in the dark as I am.” 

Ferrars smiled. There was an impatient ring in the voice 
of his friend, a token, to him, of nervousness and anxiety ill- 
concealed. 

It won’t do to lose your hold upon yourself, old man,” he 
said, kindly. Remember your position here among strangers, 
and that a yet more trying ordeal may come. You and young 
Talfourd seem somehow to be changing places. By the bye, 
he is likely to drop in on you soon, perhaps before we get ba(^k.” 

I provided for that,” said Sir Felix, knowing that he is 
likely to drop down upon me at any time.” 

Have you seen him today ?” 

No ; if he comes he will wait.” 

Sir Felix,” said Ferrars, suddenly, have you made the 
acquaintance of Talfourd’s family ?” 

Yes.” 

Tell me something about them.” 

There’s not much to tell. Max Talfourd is an only son. 
His mother is a lady, and something of an invalid ; a sweet 
gentlewoman whom I admire immensely. The father, too, I 
like much. He’s a strong man ; clear-headed, capable, genial. 
I wish that he and his son would pull together better. They’ve 
differed a little about the young lady. Miss Paget. I’d advise 
you to know Talfourd, senior.” 

I mean to know him,” said Ferrars. Is that all ? No 
relatives ?” 


318 


A LOST WITNiSS. 


'' That's all of the family. Kelatives— let me see. There's 
Mrs. Voliiey. She's a connection by marriage, I believe. 
Lives in town, in a fine establishment of her own." 

A widow ?" 

Yes, and a very handsome woman. I've quite an admira- 
tion for Mrs. Yolney." 

Indeed ; and do you know her well ?" 

I do not think it would be easy to know Mrs. Volney 
well. Talfourd introduced me and we have been there a lit- 
tle together. By Jove," he ejaculated, in that peculiarly boy- 
ish fashion, very common to him when he was conversing with 
a friend and familiar, ‘M)ut Max Talfourd's a lucky fellow 
and a cool one. He doesn’t half appreciate his fair cousin." 

Meaning Mrs. Volney ?" 

Yes." 

Is she his cousin ?" 

I believe she's the widow of a cousin of his mother's. 
She’s a very reserved woman, and dignified, in a certain gentle 
way that’s very charming. I've fancied once or twice that she 
was fond of Max." 

Quite natural," said Ferrars, carelessly. Young Tal- 
f )urd is a most admirable fellow. I like him myself." 

I'm glad to hear you say it. He will iiot disappoint you. 
He's as true as steel.” 

Ferrars made no further comment upon Max Talfourd, but 
in a moment he asked carelessly, as if the question was of lit- 
tle importance : 

Do you know that young fellow. Cousin — Polly Cousin 
they call him. A reporter, or something, isn't he?” 

^^I haven't the honor of his acquaintance," said Sir Felix. 
And then, with a short laugh, he added, I've seem him, how- 


A BOOTLESS QUEST. 


319 


ever. There’^ a funny little incident connected with that fel- 
low. I will ask Madam to tell it to you some day.’^ 

Caift you tell it?^^ 

I don’t feel in the mood. It^s about an attempt the fel- 
low made to interview La Belle Fabrice. 1 suppose she is 
indebted to that for the only unfavorable line I ever saw in 
print concerning her ability as an actress. Cousin is a priv- 
ileged for the ‘ Evening Call. ’ ” 

Do you mean,” said Ferrars, quickly, that, because of 
any disappointment or cavalier treatment at the hands of your 
friend, this fellow has taken a stand against her ?” His tone 
was that of one who has a reason for the question he asks, and 
Sir Felix recognized its earnestness. 

How you catch at trifles, old man ! Wait until you hear 
the story, and then judge for yourself. We’re arriving, don’t 
you see ?” 

The carriage was indeed drawing up to the pavement, and 
the two young men sprang out and hurried iu, in time to en- 
ter the elevator on its upward trip. 

At the door of entrance to the apartments of Fabrice and 
Madam, a servant was standing. He had a bunch of keys in 
his hand, and looked inquiringly at Sir Felix, with whose 
comings and goings he had become familiar, and bowed re- 
spectfully as the young man paused before the door. 

You’re too late,s ir,” he said. 

“ Too late !” Sir Felix frowned slightly. I believe we are 
expected.” The man was standing directly before the door. Be 
so good as to stand aside, or open the door and announce us.” 

The door is locked, sir,” said the man. They’ve gone. 
I’ve just been locking up, according to orders. They’ve been 
gone half an hour, anyway.” 

Gone ! — they !” began Sir Felix, excitedly. 


320 


A LOST WITNESS. 


But Ferrars touched him lightly upon the shoulder. Be 
careful/^ he whispered. Let me make these inquiries. Calm 
yourself.’^ Then he turned to the servant. Did Madam 
Congreve leave no message 

None that I know of, sir. I guess they didnT have any 
too much time.” 

Did you see them set out ?” 

Yes, sir. I carried Madam’s satchel and the maid’s shawl- 
strap down to the carriage, and she told me to lock the rooms, 
just as they were, until she came back. I think she was going 
to say something more, but the gentleman broke in and said 
they were losing time.” 

The gentleman — yes. Did you know the gentleman ?” 

No, sir. I never saw him but once before, and that was 
last night, when he came to see Miss Fabrice.” 

Eh !” broke out Sir Felix ; when he came to see whom ?” 

Again the hand of Ferrars’, this time quick and firm in its 
grip upon his arm, silently checked him. 

^^I’m afraid we’ve got onr appointments mixed,” Ferrars 
said, lightly. suppose the lady didn’t say when she was 
coming back ?” 

No, sir. I’ve told you all that was said. They was all in 
a hurry.” 

^^Yes; thank yon.” At this point apiece of silver was 
adroitly slipped into the servant’s hand. Ferrars took his 
friend’s arm as if about to turn away. Then he faced about 
suddenly. By the bye, what kind of a person was it that 
came for Madam Congreve ? Can yon describe him ?” 

Why, not more than to say that he was an oldish man, 
with grey hair and a smooth face. Quite tall he was, and very 
thin. I remember that he wore his hat on the back of his 
head, and it looked too big for him.” 


A BOOTLESS QUEST. 


321 


Thank you.” Ferrars felt liis companion start at the 
mention of the tilted hat, and strain toward the elevator, 
like a restive hound in leash. Did you see him come and go 
last nigiit ?” 

I saw him come. I happened to he in the way of the re- 
ception-room, the little one down stairs; he didnT come up 
last night. He gave me a card and told me to hand it to Miss 
Fabrice and to no one else. If she wasn’t there I was to fetch 
it back.” 

^^Yes. Of course. I was sure it was all right,” gripping 
hard on the arm that was silently pulling at him. The lady 
was in,” he asked ? 

Yes. T went to the door of her private room. It opens 
into the hall, there.” He indicated the door with a stubby 
and work-worn finger. I give her the card and she jest shut 
her door softly like, and ran right down shuts to the recep- 
tion-room.” 

How long did the gentleman stay ?” 

I don’t know, sir. I went on about my work. I didn’t 
see either of them again that night. And tonight I only saw 
the tall gentleman, as they went away, all three, in the car- 
riage.” 

Come,” broke in Sir Felix, we are wasting time !” The 
sudden removal of Ferrars’ hand from his arm caused him to 
turn, and brought him in a measure back to his senses. But 
not until the servant had noticed his excitement. 

Maybe, I’ve been talking too much,” the man began, dep- 
recatingly. I know there’s been a kind of mystery going 
on. Blit I thought it was all right — this gentleman,” meaning 
Sir Felix, “ being sucli a friend here.” 

It is all right ; perfectly right,” said Ferrars, briskly. 

IJ 


322 


A LOST WITNESS. 


“ But let me caution you not to talk about these things to 
strangers. The ladies, when they return, might not like it, 
you know.’^ 

By this time Sir Felix was sufficiently alive to press a second 
generous tip into the willing hand of the servant, and they re- 
entered the elevator, and thence into the waiting carriage. And 
now Sir Felix took the bit in his teeth. 

Drivel-,’^ he said, take us to the Jeffei’son Market Court 
as quickly as you can.’^ Then throwing himself back in the 
carriage, Do not countermand im*, Frank. That fellow has 
described a person I know. In fact, I introduced him to Fa- 
brice, at her request. He’s a lawyer. He may tell us what all 
this meaiis.” 

For a few moments both were silent ; then Ferrars spoke, 
slowly and with a note of sternness in his tone. 

When we have paid this call of yours, Fm going to trouble 
you to sit down, collect your scattered wits, and do some sober 
thinking. One of the worst things that we professional truth- 
seekers have to contend with, is the habit most people have of 
forgetting and ignoring trifles. I want you to pass in mental 
review all that has transpired under your eye, all that has been 
said in your hearing, concerning La Belle Fabrice, connected 
with her, or said by her. All, mind. I believe if I could 
sift the minds of you three fellows, Talfourd, Quinlan, and 
yourself, I would find enough material to bring this chaos into 
something like order, and have a firm foundation to begin 
upon, if nothing more.” 

If there’s anything in my addled brain,” said Sir Felix, 
meekly, that can’t be got out by the ordinary pumping pro- 
cess, I’m willing to be put upon the rack, and if that won’t do. 
I’ll let you try vivisection.” 


THE ALTERNATIVE. 


323 


“ Oh, I know how to get at said Ferrars, with a sliort 
laugh. “ And Pm tolerably sure of Talfourd, after he has 
satisfied his scruples, and gets thoroughly aroused to the 
necessities and possible dangers of the complication. I^m not 
so sure of Quinlan. What are you going to do when you get 
to your lawyer, eh ?” 

^'Turn him over to you,'^ replied Sir Felix, promptly. 

But again Fate frowned upon them. Sir Felix toiled up 
stairs to the door of the lawyer’s office, only to read, by the 
glare of an electric burner, these words, scrawled in ink upon 
a card that was nailed against the door-post. 

Out of iownfor' a weeJc.^^ 


CHAPTER XLV. 

THE ALTERNATIVE. 

When Polly Cousin arrived at the door of the stately old 
house where his welcome was so ready and so cordial, he was 
in a frame of mind not compatible with caution, or any of the 
cool and comfortable emotions. His heart was throbbing in 
a manner quite novel to him, and extremely uncomfortable. 
His head, too, was throbbing; the big veins on either temple 
stood out boldly, showing dark through the white rim of his 
forehead. His eyes were hot and strangely brilliant; his 
cheeks burned, and his throat and month felt parched. He 
had begun the journey pale and listless, but every step that 


324 


A LOST WITNESS. 


brought him nearer the beautiful, stately calm woman, brought 
with it fire and fever, fear and anger, self-pity and sus- 
pense. 

AYlien he entered the drawing-room and took the two hands 
of Sara Yolney, bending over them, asFerrars had seen from 
his post of observation without, he was not the cool, practi- 
cal, commonplace, awkward Polly Cousin who had first entered 
these rooms only a few weeks ago. He was a stronger man and 
a weaker ; a better and a worse. He had lost something which 
he was never to regain, and gained that which — bite and torture, 
writhe and sting him as it would — he would never part with 
if he could, and could not if he would. 

What he did, as witnessed by the detective without, seemed 
a delightful and gallant act of homage. What he said, in a 
voice husky and tremulous, was : 

You got my note ?’’ He held her slender fingers in his 
hot grasp, and his burning eyes searched her face. 

“ Yes,^’ she murmured, softly. Come into the library.’^ 

She led the way, and he followed. But when she held back 
t\\Q 'portiere^ as on his first visit, and waited again for him to 
pass, he did not enter humbly, obeying her gesture and await- 
ing her royal word. Instead, he took the hand that hung by 
her side, and held it, while with the disengaged other hand 
he drew the curtains together. Then, with a tightening grasp 
upon her fingers, he led her forward to a divan at the extreme 
end of the long room, seated her thereon, and, still holding 
her hand, sat down at her side. 

For a long moment his eyes searched her face — that serene 
face, turned toward him with a look of inquiry and nothing 
more. After a moment, she gently drew away her hand, but 
kept her calm gaze upon him. 


THE ALTERNATIVE. 


325 


What is it she asked, quietly. Something has hap- 
pened. Is it not so ?” 

Still he continued to gaze, and ignoring her question, asked 
another : 

Do you remember our first interview — here — in this 
room ?” 

Surely,” she said, I remember it ; remember it in detail. 
Do you ?” 

I remember so well,” he said, slowly, ^Hhat I believe I 
shall take that one memory with me beyond the grave, if there 
is a beyond. I have not forgotten it, sleeping or waking, for 
one moment since. One thing — one thing — you said to me — 
I wonder if you have forgotten it?” 

What was it ?” she asked, softly. The surprise was gone out 
of her face now, but no indignation, no pity, no look whereby 
to index her thoughts, came to take its place. She did not draw 
away from him, nor in any way seek to widen the distance be- 
tween them. She simply sat erect where he had placed her, 
with her white hands lying lightly in her lap. 

You said — ” He breathed the words rather than spoke 
them, and he, too, was unchanged in his attitude, even to 
the hand that lay as she had left it, after withdrawing 
her own. ‘‘You said that there' was no loneliness like 
that of a lonely woman, no helplessness like hers. I do not 
qu9te your words exact, but that was your meaning — was it 
not?” 

“Yes,” she said, “that was my meaning.” A little sigh 
parted her thin red lips. 

“ Yes, it was your meaning. I could not mistake that. It has 
been in my thoughts night and day ever since.” Again he put 
out his hand but only to lay it on the palm of hers. “ You 


326 


A LOST WITNESS. 


are a lonely woman/^ he said. And, in most things, very 
helpless 

True.’^ 

When a woman is very lonely and very helpless,’’ he went 
on, almost pathetically ; when she has no relatives and no 
friends — real friends I mean ; not surface friends — when sucli a 
woman is most helpless and most in need of a friend, she feels and 
knows that because of such need she, herself, must do what, but 
for this, she would never do. If to such a woman, in such a mo- 
ment, there should come one who is as far below her as is the 
mole from the eagle, the earth from the shining stars ; wlio is 
nothing and worse than nothing ; uncouth, untaught, unloved 
ever, but who brings to her adoration ; a life to lay down at her 
bidding; head and hands, heartand soul, only to do her will, 
to stand between her and all the world — if to such a woman 
snch a man should come, offering her all, only that he may 
serve her in prosperity and save her in time of need, asking 
only a little kindness, only to be near her — what, tell me, what 
would she say to him ?” 

A long moment of strangely weird silence, in whicli two 
statues could not be stiller — he, with a hand upon hers, each 
looking the olher in the face. 

I think,” she said, very slowly and very softly, if she 
were wise, and very sui’e of his entire devotion, such a woman 
would hold such a friend as her dearest possession, and never 
let him go.” 

Suddenly, then, he dropped upon his knees beside her, t;dv- 
ing both her hands in his, lifting first one and then the other, 
looking at each caressingly, and then clasping them both to- 
gether between his own. 

Listen,” he said. I am not going to speak of myself. I 


THE ALTERNATIVE. 


327 


am nothing ; nothing but the screen, the watch-dog, the safe- 
guard between you and all harm— remember. From the 
moment when I fiivt looked upon you, dazed and bewildered, 
in the house of Abiicr Paget, the world has held for me your- 
self, and nothing more, 1 have lived and woi ked, eaten and 
slept, in a dream. Day and niglit my thoughts have been of 
you, to be near you, to save you. I have lived only when in 
your presence, and I have impiously prayed that Leah Paget 
might never be found, if her return would shut your door to 
me. At first I lived upon seeing you now and then, when I 
w’as permitted. By and bye thnt was not enough, and I began 
making a shrine of the place that held you. I came here at 
night, and every night. I soon learned which was your win- 
dow, and I came each night to worship before tliat. It was my 
climax, for which I lived through the earlier hours of the day 
with what patience I could. Last evening, \vhen my work was 
done, it was yet early, only half-past ten. I am a light sleeper, 
and accustomed to awake at will. So, to wdiile away the time, 
I threw myself across my bed and went to sleep. It was a 
thing that never happened to me before, but I overslept, and 
when I awakened it was past midnight.^^ 

He sto})ped short and looked down at her nands. They had 
stirred in his, he thought. They were even quivering a little. 
He noted it with dull curiosity, as if they had been his captured 
birds. Then there was another movement, and he looked up. 
She was bending a little toward him, her lips slightly apart in 
a pensive half-smile. 

Yes,^^ he went on, it was half-past one, and I had a long 
walk before I could reach here. It was after two o^cloek when 
I halted opposite your house to watch, as usual, my little hour.^^ 
Again he stopped short to look at her, half expectantly, half 


328 


A LOST WITNESS. 


like a culprit. She was still bending toward him, still faintly 
smiling, and the look in his face changed slowly to one of sur- 
prise. Then, softly, and with the smile deepening a little, she 
withdrew one of the hands he had held, and placed it upon his, 
the palm downward, the slender fingers closing over his own. 

Go on,^^ she said, gently. 

Bui he remained silent. He was looking a thousand ques- 
tions, but his tongue refused to frame them. 

Your little hour,’^ she murmured. To think of it ! And 
did you watch out that little hour 

Yes,” huskily. That, and more. I stayed at first be- 
cause I thought, I feared— Oh,” he broke out, fiercely, do you 
think I was spying ? Do you think that I came, night after 
night, to watch — you ?” 

She breathed a little low sigh. 

I believe nothing of you that is not good,” she said. 

Think of it ! When I have been sitting here alone, feeling 
all life pass me by, leaving me solitary — to think that you were 
there, that I might have put up my window and called to you, 
and you would have come.” 

The fire in his face, that had been slowly dying out, flamed 
up again. Would you have called me ?” he asked, breath- 
lessly. 

She lifted the hand that had rested upon his, placed it upon 
his forehead and bent his head back, and so looked down into 
his eyes. 

Yes,” she said. I would have called you, and you 
would have come, and would have helped me, and been able 
to understand, but now — ” 

But now—” he cried. It is not too late ! You need 
me now’ ; you may need me even more.” 



“Suddenly, then, he dropped upon his knees beside her, 

TAKING BOTH HER HANDS IN HIS.” Page 326 


32 » 






330 


A LOST WITNESS. 


She stopped him by a gesture, and drew back a little. 

Listen, she said. As I would liave trusted you in my 
time of need, you must trust me now. Do you remember what 
I asked of you at our first meeting ? The time of trial has 
come. It is not for myself that I shall ask anything. When 
you have served me, and trusted me, as I have served and 
trusted my friend, I shall know how much I may trust you. 
Do not think that I have not known your worth from the first. 
Do not think I do not recognize the value of such a friendship 
as you are capable of. Do not think 1 shall not regret you, 
if you go ; that I shall not be doubly dreary.^’ 

Slie removed the hand from his head, and withdrew the 
other from his grasp, drawing back as she did it, and away 
from him. 

I want your friendship,” she said, sadly. I want it, but 
I cannot buy it at the expense of a friend. Once I could have 
o})ened my whole heart to you. Now, until my lips are un- 
sealed, you must take me nj)on trust — or leave me.” 

She made a movement as if to rise, and he staggered to his 
feet. She sat still for a moment, and then stood erect before 
him. 

I can forgive you,” she said, for you do not understand, 
but I cannot ask you to spare me now, even for friendship’s 
sake.” She put out her hand, Good-bye,” she whispered. 
That aroused him from his dizzy stupor. 

Good-bye ?” he echoed. No. I choose the alternative.” 
She drew back ‘^Do you hear me ! Let come what will, I 
choose the alternative — I choose you !” 


A MEETING WITH SIR FELIX. 


331 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

A MEETING WITH SIR FELIX. 

The strong will and clear, cool reasoning of Ferrars brought 
Sir Felix Wyntoun out of what had become something of a 
frenzy, so pained, bewildered, and alarmed was he at the succes- 
sion of strange events rapidly transpiring about him, all so 
closely connected withFabrice. During the homeward drive 
he had time to tell Ferrars how he had, himself, met with Mr. 
Clarkson at the home of Max Talfourd. and how, later, at her 
request, he had presented the lawyer to Fabrice. 

What a wretched complication he exclaimed, finally. 

It grows more and more painful, don’t you think ? And 
how long we may have to wait for a solution !” He .«ighed 
deeply. 

So much for your wisdom !” rejoined Ferrars. I take 
this departure of Madam and the lawyer as a good augury.” 

Of what ?” 

“Of the ability of your friend, Fabrice, to explain away 
doubt or suspicion when the time comes. Is it not natural 
to conclude that she, having found a reason for absenting her- 
self, has now sent for her friends ?” 

When they arrived. Sir Felix was accosted by his servant, 
who seemed to have been waiting for his return. 

“ There is a gentleman for you, sir,” he said to his master. 
“ He said that he was expected and would wait.” 


332 


A LOST WITNESS. 


“ Talfourd, of course/^ said Sir Felix, and led the way with 
eager haste. 

But it was the elder Talfourd who arose upon their entrance, 
and Sir Felix, hiding his surprise as best he could, hastened to 
give him cordial greeting. Before he could present Ferrars, 
his visitor said : 

am here, Sir Felix, in response to a note signed ^ Fer- 
rars,’ and asking me to meet you here. I don’t quite under- 
stand it.” 

“ If Sir Felix will present me,” spoke Ferrars, I will ex- 
plain.” 

Wonder ingly. Sir Felix performed the introduction, and his 
surprise was not lessened by the manner of the elder Talfourd. 
He bowed formally and with a set, unsmiling face. He did not 
speak nor extend a hand in greeting. 

Somewhat embarrassed. Sir Felix turned to his friend. But 
Ferrars was by no means ruffled at the cool greeting, and the 
coldly-inquiring glance of Mr. Talfourd. Instead, he was 
standing before him, scanning his face closely and with an air of 
interest. At the end of his momentary survey, he turned and 
said : 

If you will kindly allow me a few words with Mr. Tal- 
fourd, Sir Felix, I think I can explain myself.” 

With all iny heart,” rejoined Sir Felix. You will find 
me, when wanted, in my dressing-room.” 

When they were alone, Mr. Talfourd took a letter from his 
pocket and laid it upon the table at his side, near which Fer- 
rars was standing. 

“Are you the author of that note, sir?” he asked. 

Ferrars bent over the note for a momentary glance but did 
not touch it. 


A MEETING WITH SIR FELIX. 


333 


Yes/’ he said, then, I am the author of that note, and I 
see that I have blundered. 1 intended it for Mr. Max Talfourd, 
your son.”- 

The elder man took up the note ; his hand shook a little, and 
Ferrars could see that his lips trembled. Again he studied 
the face of the man before him attentively. Then, as if he had 
found there what he sought, he turned, and drew forward a 
chair. 

I am not sorry for this opportunity, althougli tne mistake 
that brought it about was a possibility that I never contem- 
plated,” said Ferrars. I have made the acquaintance of 
your son, under rather peculiar circumstances, and I beg you 
to believe that it was a friendly motive that inspired that 
letter.” 

A friendly motive ?” Mr. Talfourd now took up that 
note and read it aloud : 

“ Dear Sir : I am just from the scene of the murder in Dresden Flats. 
I cannot see you until this evening, at a late hour perhaps. But then, 
do not fail to be at the rooms of our friend, Sir Felix. In the interval, 
do not rashly put yourself in the way of a possible summons before the 
CoroDC-’sjury. Yours, “ Fekbars 

Yes,” said Ferrars, when Mr. Talfourd had finished read- 
ing the note, I don’t often put such plain words into writ- 
ing. It’s seldom safe. But the emergency was an exceptional 
one. Time was of value, and your son and I am not yet suf- 
ficiently accustomed to each other to talk in riddles, or corre- 
spond in cipher.” 

You are talking in riddles to me,” said Mr. Talfourd. 

Ferrars was, in his way, a proud man, and something within 
him rose in rebellion against the haughty look and tone of the 


334 


A LOST WITNESS. 


man before nim. He made a quick gesture toward the door 
that separated them from Sir Felix. 

I believe that Sir Felix Wyntoun is fairly well known to 
you, is he not he said. 

Talfourd bowed assent. 

Then do me the favor to go to him in there, and ask who 
I am and why I am here.” 

After a long look at the author of this strange request. Mi’. 
Talfourd arose, and went slowly into the next room, with 
something like a smile upon his face. When he came back, 
the smile had changed to a look not so humorous but, to Ferrars, 
far more satisfactory, — the look which a self-respecting man 
gives to a man whom he respects. 

Mr. Ferrars,” he said, Sir Felix has convinced me and 
converted me. I offer you a thousand apologies.” He ex- 
tended his hand, and Ferrars took it with cordial frankness. 

1 do not imagine that Sir Felix has solved the riddle, 
however,” he said. 

No.” Mr. Talfourd resumed his seat, and his face was 
again grave and anxious. You can scarcely wonder at my 
surprise upon reading that note,” he said. I will not con- 
ceal from you that I at once concluded it to be a mistake. In 
fact, I had evidence that it was a mistake, that it was meant 
for my son, — evidence quite as mysterious as this note of yours, 
and even more disagreeable.” 

Now,” said the detective, “ it is I who do not under- 
stand.” 

It came in the form of another letter,” said Mr. Talfourd, 
^^and that, too, no doubt, was meant for my son.” 

^Mn all my experience,” Ferrars said, thoughtfully, I 
think I never encountered a case, or cases, so complicated, so 


A MEETING WITH SIR FELIX. 


335 


curiously blended together. I came, at first, to serve your 
son, for my friend’s sake. Having made his acquaintance, 
I am now anxious to serve him for bis own. But you must 
see that I am hampered, as an American, a New Yorker, per- 
haps, would not be. I need some one in whom to confide and 
upon whom to rely ; some one, I mean, besides the police. I 
do not lack help in that direction, thanks to your very service- 
able Chief.” 

Connors is a fine fellow,” assented Mr. Talfourd. I wish 
I might presume to offer my services.” 

If you do,” said Ferrars, I shall probably accept.” He 
glanced at his watch and then at his vis-a-vis, You said 
something of another letter?” he said, inquiringly. 

Mr. Talfourd looked doubtful, and more and more anxious, 
I don’t know what to say or do about that. Of course, it is 
my son’s letter.” 

Perhaps I had better tell you,” said Ferrars, “ that I 
parted from your son not long ago. I think we shall see him 
here soon.” 

Does he know — ?” The father stopped short and left the 
question unasked. 

Wehad had little time for conversation. I had an appoint- 
ment, and so had he.” 

Mr. Ferrars, I must ask a question. You speak in your 
note of the Dresden Flats murder. In Heaven’s name, is my 
son to be in any way mixed with that ?” 

Ferrars noted his look and tone. Why do you ask,” 
questioned. 

Because — because — I may as well tell you ; it will ease my 
mind. That other letter to my son was from — ” He stopped 
again. 


336 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Was it from Hortense Novalis?’’ Ferrars asked, 
quietly. j 

Something, a sudden turn of his own thoughts, the stress of 
tlie occasion, the look and tone of Ferrars, or perhaps, a simple 
human instinct, turned the scale against further indecision on 
the part of Mr. Talfourd. 

I want you to observe, sir/’ he said, firmly, almost sternly, 
that I have full confidence in my son, even in the face of the 
fact that such a letter as you saw the need to send him, was 
preceded by a note from the woman who was murdered last 
night.’’ 

Then you have seen the papers ?” 

Yes, T have seen the papers. And you — you have seen the 
facts. May I ask, are you able to tell me any of the details?” 

Mr. Talfourd,” said Ferrars, earnestly, I am able to tell 
you, and I want to tell you. If I had not met you here tonight, 
I should have sought you out tomorrow. I have every reason 
to believe that you are the man, of all others, who can be of 
much help to me.” 

can’t speak for the ability, Mr. Ferrars, but the will is 
all on your side.” 

Then let me tell you about the murder, as briefly as pos- 
sible,” said Ferrars, rising, and Sir Felix had .better be one 
of us. He does not know all the story, but what he does is from 
a’ point of view likely to be helpful to us.” He opened the 
door and spoke to Sir Felix, who was pacing restlessly up and 
down the floor. 

I’ve been thinking over things, Frank,” he said as he fol- 
lowed his friend, and I believe I can now tell you a con- 
nected story. I see something like a ray of light ahead.” 

As the two came into the apartment where Mr. Talfourd 


A DROP OF BLOOD. 


337 


waited, the opposite door flew open, and Max Talfourd shot 
into the room. He was pale, and liis dress was slightly disor- 
dered. He manifested no surprise at the sight of his father; 
rather, he seemed not to have seen him, for he strode straight 
to Ferrars and caught his arm in a tight grip. 

Say something to me he cried, hoarsely. I think I am 
going mad ! Have they played me a hellish trick, do you 
think ? I have seen Leah Paget 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

A DROP OF BLOOD. 

Strange as his first words were, Ferrars thought that he com- 
prehended them. 

My dear fellow, compose yourself,’’ he said. Miss Paget 
came home today.” 

Today !” Max could only stare at him. 

Yes ; this morning.” Then, his voice changing to one of 
brisk, business-like good humor — If you’ll be good enough 
to note Mr. Talfourd, hei-e, and then draw up your chair 
and give an account of yourself, we will settle down to busi- 
ness.” 

Max looked about him. His father and Sir Felix were al- 
ready seated, and as Ferrars quietly lowered himself into an 
arm-chair beside the table. Max gave his hand, first to his 


838 


A LOST WITNESS. 


fatiier and then to Sir Felix. Then he sat down and looked 
inquiringly from one to the other. 

Ha\^ you seen Quinlan asked Ferrars. 

Yes.’^ 

What was the result 

‘•Just what you told me. Quinlan said/’ smiling scorn- 
fully, “that he was husy looking out for number one. He 
strongly advised f)ie to do the same.” 

“ A piece of advic(‘, it would seem, that you are very much 
in need of,” said his father, not unkindly. 

“ I dare say you are right,” said Max, trying to speak com- 
posedly hut failing in the ('ffort, and turning an agitated face 
toward Ferrars. “Tell me,” he began, “tell me what if all 
means. You said — ” 

Ferrars lifted his hand. “This morning, while I was in 
conference with Captain Connors, word came that Miss Paget 
had returned. Before we had found time or breath to com- 
ment upon the fact, a letter came. It was from Mr. Paget, 
brief and curt, and it confirmed the statement of the messen- 
ger. His daughter had returned, and he would see Captain 
Connors soon. No explanation, no comment ; just the bare 
fact. You, who know Captain Connors, can fancy its effect 
upon him. Probably Mr. Paget would have been surprised 
by a call from Police Headquarters a litter sooner than 
suited his august pleasure, but for the coming in, a moment 
later, of the summons to the scene of the double murder. 
Captain Connors set off for it at once, and I accompanied 
him.” 

As he spoke of the murder, Ferrars slowly turned his gaze 
upon Max Talfourd ; but the only sign that Max gave of hav- 
ing heard was one of impatience. 


A DROP OF BLOOD. 


339 


Theu you knew tonight/' he broke out, that she was 
alive and at home ? Why didn't you tell me ? Do you think 
I would not have seen her before this ?" 

I shudder to think what you might have done," said Fer- 
rars, quietly. Will it serve to restrain your eagerness, Mr. 
Talfourd, if I tell you that, unless great caution is used, the 
name of Leah Paget, already sufficiently quoted by the news- 
papers, will become mixed with this affiiir of the Dresden 
Flats ?" 

Max Talfourd half arose in his chair. The detective was 
seated near him at the round table, not so close but that they 
might face each other without a change of position. At the 
first movement, he fixed his eyes upon Max. Under his gaze. 
Max seemed to recover his self-command. He dropped back 
in his seat, and met the eye of the detective squarely. 

Having made that statement," he said, don't tax my self- 
command too long, Mr. Ferrars." 

The only change in the face of the detective was in the eyes 
that still rested upon Max. 

Perhaps I had better say to you now," he said, that the 
return of Miss Paget does not necessarily mean an end to the 
mystery. I am aware of how you must feel at this moment ; 
but if I had informed you at once that Miss Paget had re- 
turned, and you had rushed off to see her, possibly getting into 
an altercation with her father, the result might have been 
disastrous. I have found it necessary to instruct the parents 
of the young lady not to let the fact of their daughter's re- 
turn become known at present." 

You !" was all Max could ejaculate. 

Yes ; I have lost no time, you see. I paid ray respects to 
Mr. and Mrs. Paget this morning." 


340 


A LOST WITNESS. 


His three listeners were now past the exclamatory stage. 
They could only gaze mutely. Ferrars turned squarely tow- 
ard Max. 

Is there any reason why you should prefer to hear my ex- 
planation, or the part that concerns you most, at another time?’' 
he asked. 

Mr. Ferrars,” Max said, gravely, as far as I am con- 
cerned, I have no reason for wishing to keep back, or to con- 
ceal, any act of mine. You will answer me one question ?” 

The detective nodded. 

Has anything transpired to connect me, in any way, with 
the strange fate of Hortense Novalis ? Have I also, along 
with Frederick Quinlan, fallen under suspicion ?” 

Yes.” 

There was a start, and a smothered ejaculation from Sir Fe- 
lix, and a souiul that was almost a groan from the elder Tal- 
fourd. Max did not remove his gaze from the face of Fer- 
rars. 

Then,” said he, I beg, I demand, that you speak out, 
that you keep nothing back. I know, from Quinlan, that I 
can speak upon my call and encounter with La Belle Fabrice, 
since it is no longer a secret which I am bound to respect, and, 
beyond that, I have nothing to conceal. No matter how se- 
rious the case, my father and my filends would be my confi- 
dants, my advisers.” 

Ferrars put out his hand. Now,” he said, I see my way. 
In more or less degree, each of us is concerned in what I am 
about to set before you. Strange as it may seem, and is, the 
case of Miss Paget’s disappearance, and the murder of the two 
women in Dresden Flats, are, or seem to be, connected* Pa- 
tience, my dear fellow — ” Max had started and flushed hotly 


A DROP OF BLOOD. 


341 


again, at the mention of Leah in connection with Hortense 
Novalis. I am going to begin over again, at the point where 

Captain Connors and I set out for the Dresden Flats, after 
being apprised of Miss Paget’s return. And then I am going 
to call upon you, each of you, for your active but not too in- 
quisitive co-operation. If I get it, I shall hope to unravel the 
present mystery.” 

Never had a story-teller belter listeners. Ferrars began 
like a born narrator, telling of his entry with Captain Con- 
nors upon the scene of death — describing everything : the 
rooms in their disorder, the bodies as they lay, the presence 
and appearance of Frederick Quinlan and Dr. Grove, the 
search, the daggers with blood upon the blade-hilt, the blood- 
stained statuette. 

When he came to the subject of the letter and photo- 
graph, he described faithfully their finding, but nothing 
more. He did not say that he recognized the picture, nor 
that the letter bore signature of any kind ; neither did he 
break off to describe his sudden visit to the house of Abner 
Paget. Fie went on to the end of the story, telling how the 
Chief of Police had unearthed the envelope in the ashes — but 
still speaking no name. Then he gave a graphic account of 
the Coroner’s investigation, as far as he had followed it. 
At the point where he had left the scene of the inquest, he 
stopped, ignoring all that came after. And one other thing 
he omitted — he did not speak of Frederick Quinlan’s re- 
quest, nor tell them that his identity was known to that young 
man. 

Apparently, his narrative had been so complete as to leave 
no room for a question or comment. At any rate, no one spoke 
for many minutes. Then the detective turned to Max again. 


342 


A LOST WITNESS. 


At this part/^ he said, will you answer a few ques- 
tions f ' 

Anything,’’ said Max, promptly. 

When and where did you make the acquaintance of Hor- 
tense Novalis ?” 

‘^Oii the day on which Quinlan and the janitor testified. 
Shall I relate the circumstances ?” 

By all means,” said Ferrars, while Sir Felix leaned for- 
ward eagerly, and the elder Talfourd drew buck in his chair 
and put up his hand to shade his face. Max noted the move- 
ment, and, that the hand was rather unsteady. 

That morning,” Max began — I can’t recall the precise 
date — Fred Quinlan came to me. It was at my down-town 
rooms, I remember, and I was writing at the time. Quinlan 
said that he brought an invitation to dine with a friend of his ; 
in short, with the Novalis. She had been creating quite a sen- 
sation, and I had seen her at a distance, and knew her as any 
other club man naturally would. Quinlan said, with some of 
his usual chaffing nonsense, that she had seen me in the Park 
and elsewhere, and' that she wanted to be introduced. He 
ended by saying that he had just received a note from Hor- 
tense, in which she assured him that he must brimr me, for La 
Belle Fabrice would be present. I believe I manifested sur- 
prise, for I didn’t think the two were compatible. I can’t say 
that I needed much urging, although I did hesitate a little 
just at first. So I told Quinlan that I would be on the spot at 
the appointed hour, and that he had better be on hand a little 
earlier, to introduce me.” 

He paused here, as though he had reached the end ; but Sir 
Felix continued to look expectant, and Ferrars said, “ Well ?” 
in a tone not to be misunderstood. 


A DROP OF BLOOD. 


343 


Somehow, I suppose because the drive to the jdace was 
shorter than I thought, I was a little early. When I got in- 
side, the maid helped me to take off the light top-coat that I 
wore over my dinner-dreS':, and I heard voices in the room be- 
yond. As I made my a})peaiance in the little reception-room, 
I saw in the next room, two women. One was tall and superb, 
in a magnificent toilet, and blazing with jewels — my hostess, 
Horteiise Novalis ; the other was La Belle Fabrice. I suppose 
that both were too excited to have heard my entrance. At any 
rate, before I could thiidi to make my presence known, I caught 
a few words — })arts of a sentence or two. ‘ You’ll be very sorry 
f u’ this,’ I heard Hortense say, and she added s-miething about 
‘ intentional insult.’ I didn’t hear a word from the lij)s of Fa- 
brice, but she turned at that moment, and I saw that she was 
pale, and looked shocked or frightened. As she turned, M’lle 
Novalis, who had not yet seen me, flung after her a gross, in- 
sulting epithet. The next moment, both saw me. The face 
of La Belle Fabrice flamed and paled again under the insult, 
but still she did not open her lips. She was hastening toward 
the anteroom, near the entrance of which I still stood. As she 
saw me — Hortense I mean^ — she struck a bell violently, and be- 
fore Fabrice could cross the two rooms, a maid appeared. 
‘ Show that person out at once,’ Hortense cried, angrily. Then 
she advanced toward me, trying to muster a smile and say some 
word of welcome. I did not hesitate a second. The scene pro- 
voked and disgusted me. I did not so much as glance at my 
would-be hostess, but, as Fabrice approached, I stepped to 
her side, and said, ^ It appears that I am on time, as I came to 
look after you, M’lle Fabrice. Please take my arm. We will 
not trouble M’lle’s servant.’ I spoke as if I were an acquaint- 
ance, and as I looked down into her face it lighted up, and I saw 


344 


A LOST WITNESS. 


that she understood me. She put her hand on my arm and 
walked out with me.like a little princess. At the door we en- 
countered Fred Quinlan. It was not the place for explanations, 
and none were made. By the time we were well out of the 
place, Fabrice had regained her composure, and she made a brief 
explanation. It was to the effect that she had been decoyed to the 
rooms of Horteuse upon a misrepresentation. She had received 
a note, she said, and had gone in response to it, expecting 
to meet an old acquaintance, ill or in trouble, and hoping 
that she might be able to serve the person. Instead, she had 
found Hortensc Novalis, blazing with jewels, and was informed 
that she was called to dine with some gentlemen who wanted 
very much to know her. In order to make sure of her coming, 
Ilortense had said that she had perpetrated upon her a harm- 
less little joke.” 

In making her explanation,” asked Ferrars, did the lady 
say that she found, in Horteuse Novalis, the acquaintance who 
was in supposed distress?” 

— now that I think of it, no.” 

^^On the contrary, then, did she say she did not find the 
person she expected to meet?” 

Max considered a moment. No,” he said again. I see 
your meaning. I have held the impression that she found a 
stranger, but she did not say it was a stranger.” 

And about your subsequent call upon Quinlan — how was 
that ?” 

^^Very much as Quinlan related upon the witness-stand. 
When we left the house together, the lady and mvself, we 
walked a short distance, she telling me in substance what I 
have just related. She was very reserved, and used as few 
words as possible. She finished by asking me not to mention 


A DROP OF BLOOD. 


345 


the fact of our meeting at that place, to any one. In fact, she 
laid so much stress upon it that I promised her very solemnly, 
and volunteered to procure a like promise from Fred Quinlan, 
which I did, as you have been told. It seemed to relieve her 
anxiety, and I confess that I did not much wonder that she 
was anxious.’^ 

And was that your first and last call upon Hortense Nov- 
alis?^^ asked Ferrars. 

It was. I have since received two notes from the woman — 
one a day or two after the event, and the other perhaps two 
weeks later. I gave them no attention. They were the same 
in purport. She wished to see me, regretted the unpleasant 
incident at my first call, and would like an opportunity to ex- 
plain, to set herself right in my eyes.’^ 

And you say you ignored the notes 

I did ; simply threw them into the waste-basket or the 
grate. You will remember, you reminded me of the fact once 
tonight, that on the day after my call at the Dresden Flats, 
I learned of Leah’s disappearance ?” 

While they were talking, Mr. Talfourd had slowly lowered 
his hand from his face, and drawn himself erect in his chair. 
He extracted from one of his pockets two envelopes, and placed 
them before him on the table. 

A mistake which I made tonight,” he said, gravely, is 
now accounted foi'. This letter,” taking up one and handing 
it to Max, came into my hands late this afternoon. I had 
opened it, and puzzled my brains over it for some time, before 
it dawned upon me that it was meant for yon. As you may 
judge, it made me very anxious, and as you did not come home 
to dinner, I humored my impatience and came here in your 
stead. Take it, Max.” 


346 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Max took the letter, and glanced at its contents. It was 
the letter from Ferrars, and he said, as he put it down, It’s 
just as well that it came into your hands; better, in fact. Is 
the other mine also ?” 

^^Yes,” said his. father, pushing tiie other toward him. 

Tliat’s the letter that stirred me up to act as I have in this 
matter. Perha[)s,” he added, as he turned once more towaid 
Ferrars, ‘^yon can guess how those two letters, followed upas 
they were by tlie news of the murder, affected me.” 

Max had taken up the second letter and opened it. 

Ah !” he ejaculated, throwing it down before Ferrars, 

that’s the third.” 

Ferrars took up the letter and read it aloud. 

“ ‘ Dear Sir,* ’* it ran : “ Do not think that I mean to persecute you, 
for I do not. But you owe me an opportunity to say a word for myself. 
Will you not give it to me ? Tomoirow I appear before all New York. 
Previous to that, I want to see you. I am very busy, and so, not to 
encroach upon your valuable time, 1 ask you to come and see me for a 
few minutes only, at twelve o’clock (midnighi) tonight. 

“ Hortense.” 

Ferrars laid down the note. Were the others like this?” 
he asked, thoughtfully. 

No ; they were not so wordy, nor so grammatical. The 
otlier notes were sent to my club.” 

Ferrars was silent a moment ; then — “ May I have this 
note?” he asked, or will you lend it to me ?” 

Certainly ; it is yours.” 

Ferrars took from his pocket a tied packet, wliich he laid 
upon the table before him, and proceeded to open under their 
eyes. He drew from it a photograph of the size known as 


A DEOP OF BLOOD. 


347 


small cabinet, and laid it silently before Max, who caught it up, 
and exclaimed : 

“ Where did you get this 

Sir Felix craned his neck and looked too. 

Why it is yourself, Talfourd !” he ejaculated. 

Yes, it’s myself, certainly,” said Max. Where — ” 

He stopped short. Ferrai-s had placed before him a letter. 
It was torn and soiled, and boi'e marks of much crumpling, al- 
though it had been restored with care. Again Max stared, 
then caught the sheet, and colored to his temples. 

Do you I’ecognize that, too ?” asked Feri-ars. 

Of course.” Max did not put this down as before. It’s 
my own writing.” 

“ You are sure of that?” 

Yes, I am sure.” 

Look at this.” The detective lield before his eager eyes 
the envelope that bore the name of Leah Paget. 

Good Heavens, man !” cried Max, where did you get 
these — ?” 

Ferrars put down the envelope, and looked liard at the 
questioner. 

^^That photograph,” he said, slowly, ^Land the letter also, 
I took from under the pillows and the bed-spread in the dress- 
ing-room of Hortense Novalis. The envelope, bearing the 
name of Miss Leah Paget, was found by Captain Connors in 
the ashes of the fire-place, as I have described to you. Do you 
still claim these as yours?” 

As they waited a silent, breatldess moment for his an- 
swer, the face of the father was filled with suspense, that of Sir 
Felix alive with sympathy, indignation, and poorly-suppressed 
excitement. But Max Talfourd’s hantf was firm, as lie took 


348 


A LOST WITNESS. 


up, in turn, the picture, the letter, and the envelope, glanced 
at each and laid them down. His voice was steady and calm 
as he said : 

Yes, they are mine. The letter and the photograph I sent 
to Leah on — wait — my God ! what does it mean ? I sent 
them to her on that day — the day of my visit to Hortense — 
the day before Leah disappeared. How came they there ? 
How—’’ 

Wait,” broke in Ferrars. Turn the letter over ; look 
at the left-iiand corner.” 

Max obeyed mechanically. What is it?” he said. A 
blot — a stain?” He held it up toward the drop-light above 
the table, and looked again. My God ! he cried, as the sheet 
fell from his now nerveless fingers — my God ! it^s blood 


CHAPTER XLVIII. 

MINOR PRECAUTIONS. 

To say that Francis Ferrars, the English detective, on the 
third day of his sojourn in New York, had found occupation 
sufficient to preclude all possibility of ennui, would be to put 
it farcically. And yet he went about his business, manifold as 
it was, in a manner as cool and free from hurry as if instead of 
many tasks he had but one, and that one a sinecure. 

His first business visit, after a long, and in the end satisfac- 
tory argument with Sir Felix and the Talfourds, — father and 
son, — was to the Chief of Police. His first question was : 

Have you seen Mr. Paget ?” 


MINOR PRECAUTIONS. 


349 


I wish you had was the Chiefs reply, and then came 
the story of Mr. Pagefs call. 

I believe that old curmudgeon thought he could muzzle 
my whole force with his confounded dollars,’^ said the Chief, 
wrathfully. His daughter had returned, and that wms to be 
the end of it. 1 might send in my bills, and I wns to give, in 
his name, a present of money to the ^ men who had been most 
efficient in working in his behalf.’ Efficient ! Fancy my 
telling that to Waters and Nickerson and Polly Cousin ! 
But I forget ; you do not know them.” 

I hope to, soon,” said Ferrai s. And how did you part 
with Mr. Paget ?” 

Well,” said the Chief, with a sly smile, as you know, I 
was not in a position to go into particulars. So I tried the 
high-handed business. I flatter myself,” he added, that it 
was a success. He insisted upon hearing my reasons for what 
he called my astonishing message ; said he had no mind to be 
kept longer in a state of siege by the Police ; had found it irk- 
some, etc., etc. Then I told Mr. Paget that over my men he 
had no control ; that the ' siege,’ as he chose to call it, would 
be raised at my pleasure, not his. And finally, I asked him if 
his daughter had given him a satisfactory account of her ab- 
sence. I knew he wouldn’t lie outright ; but, of course, he 
bullied me, and declined to answer. At length, I sent him away 
with a hard nut to crack. I told him to go home and ques- 
tion his daughter. If she gave him a reason for her strange 
flitting, and stranger return, — a reason which would bear the 
light of publicity, — it might be well to announce it ojienly. 
But, I said, if you are not prepared to be perfectly frank, and 
let her return and her reasons for going be made known to- 
gether, you had better lieed my advice a little longer. In sucli 


350 


A I.OST WITNESS. 


a matter as this it will not do to court the attention of the re- 
porters, and then slam the door in their faces. I wound up by 
adding that I should wish to see Miss Paget myself soon, or, 
if not myself, some one with authority from me. I didn’t 
want to be too definite upon that point.” 

Ferrars smiled. You certainly have done well,” he said. 

I pity his daughter, if she is as sensitive as she looks. I have 
seen a picture of her, you must know ; and a very good one it 
is said to be. Did you learn from Mr. Paget any of the de- 
tails of the return ?” 

No, not from Paget. Luckily, I h‘’d been informed on 
that point beforehand. When he canu', I was prepared to be 
very wise.” 

I wish you would prepare me,” said the detective. 

To be sure. It was Polly Cousin who gave me the in- 
formation.” 

The one who was first to tell the news?” queried Ferrars, 
carelessly. 

“Tlie same. It seems that in the beginning of the hunt. 
Cousin had made the acquaintance of one of the housemaids, 
and had won her confidence. The old business — every day at 
a certain hour, night and morning, Polly was on hand to steal 
a few words with the housemaid ; all for her own sweet sake, 
of course. And, of course, you do not need to be told that 
('very time he saw his housemaid he knew what had happened 
in the Paget liousehold since their last interview. Yesterday 
morning, she told him, in a flurry of excitement, that Miss 
Leah had come back ; that she came very early in the morn- 
ing and rang the bell, thereby arousing the house. But al- 
though every servant was up and awake and brimming over 
with curiosity, no one of them was rewarded by a sight of 


MINOR PRECAUTIONS. 


351 


the returned prodigal, not even her own maid. Miss Puget 
went straight from the door to her own room, and then sent 
for her mother. At the time when Cousin had received 
his report, neither mother nor daughter had emerged from that 
locked chamher.’’ 

Ferrars mused a moment, then he got out his note-book 
and ran his eye over several pages. 

By the bye,^’ he said, presently, when you see this young 
man. Cousin, again, get from liim the name of the maid, his 
informant.” 

ThaPs easy enough.” 

You havQ not named me to Mr. Cousin, of course?” 

Certainly not.” 

That is well.” He seemed to ponder a moment over 
something in his note-book. Then he spoke : This man, 

Cousin, is not on your staff, I understand ?” 

No,” said the Chief; I only wish lie were. He’s a re- 
porter by profession, and a detective by instinct.” And see- 
ing a look of interest upon the face of Ferrars, he launched 
into a brief biography of Polly Cousin. ^ 

I see,” said Ferrars, at last; an odd sort of fellow, ten- 
acious in his grip, honest and faithful according to his lights.” 

Yes ; you have about measured him.” 

Captain,” said Ferrars, I want to ask you once more, 
and until we are out of the labyrinth of the present, to take 
me on trust, as much as you can. I can work best in my own 
wav, and in the end I think you will see that it has simplified 
matters greatly. Fm not going into this business in my proper 
person, and, after the inquest is over, and my line of battle 
marked out, I shall not be seen about Police Headquarters. 
Fm going to set up a little branch department of my own.” 


352 


A LOST WITNESS. 


My dear sir/^ broke out the Chief, I am only too glad 
to have you take this thing out of my hands upon any terms. 
Don^t feel that you need to explain to me, but command me 
when you need me. I’ll see that your way is cleai-, and no 
questions asked ; and if you want any light artillery — ” He 
stopped in response to a gesture from Ferrars. 

do want a couple of good men,” said the detective. 

You have a man — he was on duty at the inquest today — a 
keen-eyed fellow, a little too openly alert, in fact. I had oc- 
casion to notice him especially.” And now it was his turn to 
break olF abruptly. Captain Connors was shaking with laugh- 
ter. 

Yes,” the Captain said, finally, I know who you mean ; 
it’s Michael. Michael considers you a very suspicious char- 
acter.” 

Yes,” assented Ferrars, smiling; ^Mie made that plain 
to me when he followed up the woman — of course he has told 
you of that ?” 

Yes, and I fancied that you might have made yourself a 
bit conspicuous, just for Michael’s benefit ; as a test, perhaps.” 

I didn’t try very hard to escape his observation,” admitted 
Ferrars. I think he’s the man I want, or one of them. For 
the other, I fancied that Nickerson would do.” 

Yes, sir. With someone to put them properly to work, 
^you couldn’t have two better men. Will two be enough 

For the present, yes.” 

Very well. I’ll send for them and have them ready to 
report to you at short notice,” 

That, then, is settled. Now, what do you intend to do in 
this Paget affair ? Consider the case closed ?” 

No, sir,” said the Chief, with decision. Not yet ; not as 


MINOE PEECAUTIONS. 


353 


it now stands. Not until I liave heard a better reason for 
dropping it than the unexplained re-a]:)pea ranee of Miss Paget.’^ 
I think you are quite right/^ said the English detective, 
and, a how much of a secret, do you fancy, is the re- 

turn of the young lady, at this moment?’^ 

“Umph! tiiat depends upon the discretion of the servants, 
I should say, and a little upon the young lady herself.^^ 

‘‘Exactly. Already there are several who are aware of it, 
besides ourselves and your friend Cousin.^^ 

“Eh ! who are they ?” 

“ Last evening,’^ began Ferrars, “ I accidentally ran across 
Max Talfourd, and he left me to see Quinlan about this busi- 
ness of the inquest and La Belle Fabrice. After leaving Quin- 
lan, it appears, the young man took a walk in the direction of 
the Paget place. It was late, and, as you of course know, the 
streets about there are a perplexing maze of light and shade, 
owing to much shrubbery and many trees.” 

The Chief nodded. 

“ It followed, of course, that our friend Talfourd kept in 
the shade, and took advantage of the light. At first, he tells 
me, he was not especially struck by the fact that the upper 
windows just above the place where he stood, were well lighted. 
Then it came upon him that those were the windows of Miss 
Paget’s own rooms. To make my story as short as possihh', 
he was noticing those windows with great eagerness, hoping to 
see some sign of an inmate, when, from the security of his 
lurking-place, he saw another figure moving stealthily toward 
the house. He watched this figure until he was certain that 
it was a spy, and then glancing up, saw that the lights were out 
ill the room he had been watching, but that one of the win- 
dows was partially illuminated from the street. As he gazed, 

12 


354 


A LOST WITNESS. 


the curtain was pushed up, and he saw, very clearly, he says, 
the face and form of Miss Leah Paget. In his surprise he 
called her name. At once the form withdrew, and after a few 
moments another form approached the window and pulled 
down the curtain.” 

And the other,” asked the Captain — ^Hhe spy?” 

The spy ?” said Ferrars, slowly. Talfourd followed him, 
as soon as he could gather himself together. The Paget house, 
you will remember, stands upon a corner. The fellow went 
round to the side gate — one, Talfourd informs me, that is used 
by the servants. There, late as was the hour, he was joined 
by a woman. He could not get near enough to make sure, 
but thinks it was one of the servants.” The detective spoke 
with marked deliberation and watched the Chiefs face the 
while. 

‘^By Jove !” exclaimed the latter, with a start, that must 
have been Cousin !” 

Where does Cousin lodge ?” 

The Chief named Cousin’s street and number, adding, If s 
a quiet, unpretending neighborhood. Cousin is a studious, 
hermit-like fellow out of business hours. Did Mr. Talfourd 
pursue him — I mean the spy ?” 

No. He was too much excited, too anxious to see me and 
tell the news, to take time f )r that. Captain, I would like to 
give you a bit of advice. Get Mr. Cousin out of this case as 
quick as you can, without raising his suspicions. You can 
make the return of Miss Paget your reason. Assume to drop 
the case.” 

The Captain favored him with a broad stare. 

I cannot answer questions,” said Ferrars, warningly. 

I don’t want to ask them. I prefer ignorance at present. 


MINOR PRECAUTIONS. 


355 


There wonT be any trouble about Cousin, though. He’s only 
a volunteer.” 

“So much the better.” Then with a sudden change 
of subject, Have you seen the Coroner ?” 

“Oh, yes. I knew I could manage him. He’s a reasonable 
man, when he sees the object of a thing. Of course, he de- 
manded to know why I wanted that will suppressed, and why 
I turned him off tlie track, once or twice, in his questioning of 
Quinlan and the others. I explained to his satisfaction, but it 
will all have to come out when the inquiry is resumed.” 

“ Of course,” assented Ferrars. “When the inquiry is re- 
sumed, let the Coroner conduct it in his own way. Leave him 
and his jury to work out their own solution.” 

“ Eh ! Don’t you intend to manifest yourself?” 

“ No. It won’t serve any good purpose. After this inter- 
view, you will not be likely to see much of me, as my natural 
self, for some time. I am going to see Quinlan at once. After 
that, I shall be very busy, I fancy. I shall want to know the 
result of your call upon Miss Leah Paget.” 

“ Certainly you shall. By the way, that envelope which I 
found in the grate — are you going to produce that at the in- 
quest ?” 

“ No,” said Ferrars, promptly. “ It will do great harm to 
the living and no good to the dead. I only wish 1 could get 
})OSsession of that little blood-marked statuette and suppress 
that also. In the hands of the Coroner it will do mis- 
chief.” 

“ Well,” said the Chief, after pondering a little, “I don’t 
see why you shouldn’t. It’s to you we look for a solution of 
this mystery, not to the Coroner. It can’t prove anything in 
his hands that isn’t set forth over and over by the other tell- 


356 


A lost witness. 


tale, blood -bespattered articles. I’ll try to manage that for 
you.” 

you would,” said Ferrars. As you say, in the bands 
of the Coroner it may only serve to warn the guilty one ; in 
mine — ” 

It may be a valuable clue,” exclaimed the Chief. You 
shall have it ; say no more.” 

Thank you,” said Ferrars, and for a few moments he was 
again very busy with his memoranda. 

The Coroner is bent on finding those runaway witnesses,” 
broke in the Chief, and of course, in that, I’m bound to aid 
him. He has got into his head that the lady. Madam Con- 
greve, as they call her, has merely changed her place of abode 
temporarily ; taken some less aristocratic and more secluded 
quarters. So I shall have to scour the city for them, as also 
for that woman with the white hair ; I dare say, it’s the one 
you and Michael followed yesterday.” 

Possibly,” assented Ferrars. I suppose you men have 
her under surveillance ?” 

Well, they’ve got an eye on the hotel. I guess she won’t 
get away,” smiled the Chief. 

Ferrars tore a leaf from his note-book, wrote an address 
upon it, and arose as he handed it to the Chief. 

There,” he said, is my address for a time. Do not look 
for luxury and ostentation when you come to see me. And 
do not expect to find me there at all hours. It’s only a meet- 
ing-place. Send my men there at once. And I wotdd like 
to take another look at some of those papers in the Paget 
case.” 

They’re at your disposal.” The Chief produced them and 
placed them, a neat but rather bulky package, upon the table 


MINOR PRECAUTIONS. 


357 


before Ferrars. There lie said, and much good may 
they do you. It’s a burning shame ; such splendid work as 
went into that case, and then to see it end a failure, and such 
a failure !” The Captain’s face flushed. I don’t need to 
wonder what my men will say, those of them who have put so 
much active and tireless work, so much interest and patience, 
yes, and chivalry, into it all. The ^ Paget Case’ will be a sore 
word for some time in this office ; for many a day, I fancy.” 

Ferrars, who had taken up the package, laid it down again 
and came a step neaier, 

‘‘ Captain,” he said, gravely, let us speak for a moment 
non-professional ly ; simply as man to man ; your opinion for 
mine. Do you really consider the Paget case closed ?” 

I don’t know what to think,” cried the Chief, except 
this : Closed or not, the Paget case is a farce, a fiasco, an insult 
to the profession !” 

Ferrars laughed one of his low rare laughs, and laid a hand 
upon the Captain’s arm. 

My acquaintance with the case is not quite three days old,” 
he said. But, thanks to your thorough system, it’s very 
clearly before me. Captain, I predict that the end of this case 
will not be a fiasco, and that it is far from being closed. In- 
deed, it is only begun ; and, more than that, do you know why 
I want these papers ?” touching the packet before him. 

No, I’m blessed if I do.” 

Well, I will tell you. I want them because they will fur- 
nish me with data that will save my assistants and myself 
long days and perhaps weeks of active labor. With these pa- 
pers in my hands, I have the beginning, possibly the middle, 
and a clue to the end, of the Dresden Flats Murder Mystery !” 
He put on his hat and took up the packet again. Think it 


358 


A LOST WITNESS. 


over, Captain, and when you have seen Miss Paget, let me 
know, as soon as possible, tlie result of the meeting.’^ 

When the Chief of Police was alone again, he paced up and 
down his private office for many moments, biting his lips and 
muttering disjointed words and fragments of sentences. Fi- 
nally hesat down at his desk, and placing before him two blank 
and separate sheets of paper, he wrote in huge letters across 
the top of one, The Case of Leah Paget,’’ and upon the other, 
in the same manner, The Murder in the Dresden Flats.” 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

* 

LEAH. 

Leah Paget had arrived at her father’s door in the grey of 
dawn, rang, and was admitted, as has been told, only to go, 
with almost her usual quick elasticity of tread and erectness of 
bearing, straight to her own room. 

When Mrs. Paget, in response to the joyful news, came ea- 
gerly, with outstretched hands and fast-beating heart, to wel- 
come her daughter, it was Leah herself who opened the door 
and closed it again after her, locking it with quick unsteady 
fingers, and then turning to fling herself, voiceless and dry- 
eyed, into her mother’s arms. 

Leah ! Leah !” And the glad mother had held her tight 
in her arms, sobbing, and murmuring fond words of welcome, 
and catching her closely and sobbing afresh. It was Leah who 
was the one to soothe, to be calm, and after a moment, to lead 


LEAH. 


359 


her mother to a seat upon a divan, sinking down beside her, 
and waiting, her mother’s hand within both her own, for the 
sobs to cease. 

When, at last, calmness came, and mother and daughter sat 
gazing into each other’s eyes, it was Leah who first spoke. 

Mother,” she said, drawing back a little, look at me. 
No, do not speak yet, and do not say that I look pale and 
worn and sorrowful ; I do not need to hear that. But look 
into my face, my eyes — I wish you could see my heart, too — 
and tell me, am I your daughter Leah, the same Leali that went 
out from your doors a little more than a month ago ? It’s a 
life-time ago to me. Do my eyes meet yours less frankly ? Do 
you see any trace of deceit, falsehood, or shame ? Do I look 
as if these had touched me ? Have I come back to you as I 
went ? ' Look, mother !” She came and stood before her 
mother, as pale and still as a statue of despair. 

Snell a rare figure she was ! Not tall, just the medium 
heiglit, but so slender as to appear stately ; such a lovely face 
and shapely head ; such dainty curves and perfect shoulders. 
Even then, in that trying time, her look was full of gentle 
dignity, her manner respect-compelling. 

Tell me, mother ?” 

Again the mother put out her arms and drew the girl down 
at her side. 

‘‘ My darling,” she said, ‘^your mother knows you, and 
loves you, and has never doubted you through all these miser- 
able days.” 

A long, deep sobbing sigh broke from the girl’s lips. Thank 
you, mother dear,” she said, wearily. And be patient with 
me. Do not ask me a question yet, and above all, do not leave 
me,” 


360 


A LOST WITNESS. 


For an answer, Mrs. Paget kissed her daughter and held her 
closer in her arms. 

I am weary,” the girl went on, and lonely !” Suddenly 
her great calm was broken. “ Mother, I have been so lonely !” 
she cried. I have been in a grave !” And she threw her- 
self upon her mother’s bosom, and broke into sobs that shook 
her whole frame, and that were an agony for her mother to 
hear. 

And so, all that day, Leah lay upon her bed with her moth- 
er’s hand gripped fast in hers, and with her eyes half closed ; 
or sat in her big softly-cushioned chair, and watched her mother 
as she moved about the room, content to have her daughter 
with her again ; and with a heart so full of love and pity, 
that doubt and curiosity found no room for entrance. Even 
Leah’s faithful maid was shut out, but she waited near to re- 
ceive Mrs. Paget’s gently-spoken commands, and to do her 
bidding promptly, joyfully, for the love she bore her fair young 
mistress. Once or twice, mindful of her duty always, Mrs. 
Paget had gone below for a few words with her husband, or 
upon some household affair intent. But she always came hasten- 
ing back, to find Leah’s eyes wide open and wistful, but ready 
to close again when the dear hand was once more in hers, or the 
loved voice murmuring near her. Little by little, the mother 
began to understand her daughter’s reserve and its true mean- 
ing, and, little by little, all was told that would cross the lips 
of Leah Paget for many days. It was a trying ordeal to 
Leah ; how trying, her mother never knew. 

To the combat with her stern father, she found herself equal. 
She had enough of his own strong will and tenacity of pur- 
pose— a tenacity, which, in her, stopped short just this side of 
unreasoning stubbornness, while, in him, it went far over the 


I^EAH. 


361 


boundary line. To him, in all his variations of command, 
reproach, argument, and anger, she had ever the same an- 
swer : 

“ Father, it is useless. I seem unfilial, I know ; ungrateful, 
willful, wicked — what you will. In all things else, I will obey 
you. I will never again set my will in opposition to yours. 
I will leave your home, if you wish it, and earn my living as 
best I can. But you must not urge me further — and,’^ draw- 
ing herself erect in her offended dignity, you must not accuse 
me of the shameful things you have hinted at in some of your 
rages. And you must not speak to me as you have spoken to- 
day. I have borne a good deal, and if I were the sinner you 
seem to think me, I would bear all meekly, as an atonement. 
Blit I have been sinned against, and for the sins of another I 
will not do penance. You must let this hideous past month 
be dead between us, or let me go out from your house. I am 
your daughter, or I am nothing. I will not live under your 
roof as a culprit. Choose f’ 

In her mother, as against her father, Leah found a firm ally. 

Abner,” said his wife, you must leave Leah to work out 
her own release from whatever danger or terror now seems 
hanging over her. I can see that she is sorely tried, and you 
are doubling her burden. Either you must ignore much, and 
let our home be the same shelter to Leah as of old, and you must 
be more than ever a father to her, or else we must go. Yes, 
I said ^ we.’ You are my husband, true, and I have given 
you a life-time of allegiance. But Leah is my child ; she needs 
me more than you do. I ask nothing for her or for myself ; 
my own fortune is ample. Shall I take my daughter and go 
away ?” 

This was too much for Abner Paget. He shut himself up 


362 


A LOST WITNESS. 


in his library, and for the remainder of that day would see no 
one, not even his wife, until the visit of the detective broke 
his seclusion. 

But when it came to denying her mother, Leah could not 
bear up so bravely. After much entreaty, and many tears on 
both sides, tlie girl flung herself down upon her knees, and 
clasping her arms about her mother’s waist, entreated her in 
an agony. 

Mother, mother, spare me ! I want you to know all, 
everything. Don’t you see how it hurts me to deny you — you, 
my mother ? Yet I cannot ; I have sworn it. But for that 
vow I might not be here. I might never have seen your face 
again. I can say no more ; and even this must be locked 
in your heart, for fear fresh ill may come of it. Spare me, 
mother, or let me go away !” 

And the mother was won. 

Tlie evening of Leah’s return was passed, by the girl, in 
restlessly pacing to and fro the length of lier two rooms ; by 
the mother, in anxious study of the girl’s face and movements, 
and in occasional efforts to persuade her to rest. 

“ Leah, my daughter, if you can lie down — if you will only 
try — you look so weary, my darling !” 

All day the sad-hearted mother had struggled bravely for 
composure, fought down her tears, disguised and denied her 
own weariness, praying ceaselessly for strength to meet her own 
and Leah’s bitter need. And all day long she had succeeded. 
But now, sitting in the inner room, wliere she had made the 
dainty white bed as tempting as possible, and toned the lights 
to softness that in itself invited repose, she was not quite so 
strong as she had meant to be. And Leah, passing near her 
on her ceaseless march, noted the tremor of voice and saw the 


LEAH. 


363 


tears glistening in her tired eyes. Swiftly she turned and 
knelt beside her mother’s chair. 

Mother/’ she said, softly, plaintively, do not mind me, 
please ; do not let this grieve you so. Oh, be strong for me 
now. It is my time of utmost need !” She caught her mother’s 
hands, and holding them tightly between her own, bent her 
hot face upon them. When 1 was a child, mother,” she went 
on,, in a low hushed tone, you used to tell me that nothing 
could really harm us, really, for this world and for what was 
to come, but ourselves ; that all wrong not self-inflicted, all 
suffering undeserved, would end in good, bye and bye. Mother,” 
the white face and burning eyes were lifted, the one word was 
a wail — mother, tell me that now, make me believe it — or I 
shall go mad ! I shall die !” 

What is that which comes sometimes to a weak woman when 
all her soul seems stricken, all her heartstrings wrenched, 
all her faith and hope tottering, all her future a mockery, all 
her life chaos? What is it, if it be not a flame from 
heaven — a word invisible, dropped from the hand of the 
Virgin Mother? — and the earthly mother is strong to seize 
and hold and save the soul of her child. 

Leah,” the two hands of the mother released themselves 
and took the daughter’s hands in hers, while the eyes of each 
were fixed upon the other — Leah, my daughter, listen. The 
woman whose heart is pure, whose conscience is open and clean 
to the eyes of God and His Angels, cannot be wholly crushed, 
wholly cast down. The Leah Paget who has lived her life 
purely and sweetly in the eyes of all the world, cannot be so 
bent and broken by a passing shadow, a few days of darkness 
against all the bright, clear years of her life. Have you lost 
faith in yourself, my daughter?” 


364 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Mother thegirPs head was lifted proudly, and she drew 
back and would have drawn away her hands, but they were 
held fast. 

^^Have you lost faith in your mother, then? in your 
friends ? Is truth less beautiful in your eyes ? Is crime, vice 
in any form, less hideous than of old ?” 

‘^Mother cried tlie girl again. 

Look at me, dear, and listen. From this time, I shall 
never ask you about the past month, and you need never men- 
tion it to me, until you can do so freely ; until you wish to do 
so. I am going to trust you, as I always have. And I can trust 
you. Neither shall I in any way interfere with your perfect 
freedom of action, where your secret is concerned. But I am 
your mother, Leah, and you have never disobeyed me yet.’^ 

As she spoke, the form of the girl was swaying toward her, 
and a newer and softer look was dawning in her eyes. 

I have always obeyed you, mother,” she said. I will 
obey you now, only — ” 

^^One moment, dear. You have been a self-reliant girl, 
Leah, capable of doing your own thinking. I have been proud 
of your rare dignity, for it is rare in one of yourye^rs ; but above 
all, I have prized your straightforward methods and frank- 
ness. There; it is only the present peculiar circumstances that 
could justify so much praise. Now, Leah, I am going to lay 
my commands upon you.” 

Leah sighed and drew closer to her mother’s knees. 

They are very simple. You may find them hard just at 
first. My daughter, I want you to begin tomorrow morning 
just where you left off when — when you last sat at your father’s 
table. I want you, unless you feel tired or really ill, to come 
down tomorrow morning as usual. Take up your life again 


LEAH. 


365 


in the old way, as becomes the only daughter of the house. Of 
course, I shall not expect or ask you to go out, or to see vis- 
itors against your inclinations. But here, at home, there must be 
no change. There is no reason for change. In the case of 
some certain visitors I may be a little rigid, but will you trust 
your mother Leah, as she trusts you?’’ 

Fora long moment there was silence ; then Leah Paget arose 
and stood before her mother, and drew her form to its fullest' 
height. 

Mother,” she said, firmly, I thank God that your blood 
flows in my veins. A moment ago all the world looked deadly 
black to me. God forgive me for hating the world, while my 
mother — and such a mother — is in it. As God hears me, there 
is no thought in my heart, no act of my life, that need make 
me unworthy of your’ love and trust. That is all lean say to 
you, to any one ; and you must tell them so. I cannot promise 
to be in all things tlieold Leah Paget. I shall have my black 
hours, of course. But I will not shut you out even from them. 
And in all else I will do what you wish. To all but you I will 
be the same Leah. I can do it, I know. And yon will help 
me. To all — ” She broke off and caught her breath sobbingly. 

Mother, you must not speak of him yet. I cannot bear it. 
You must not ask that. I cannot see him !” 

^^My darling,” said the mother, be sure I shall not tax 
you beyond your strength in this matter. When you have 
taken time to think, your own good sense must guide you, 
yours and his. Until you need me, or ask my advice or help, 
I will not put my finger upon a thing so sacred.” 

But little was said after this, and the evening passed slowly. 
Mrs. Paget went below and applied for admittance at the 
library-door, but it was denied her, and she came back to Leah 
with a rueful half-smile upon her face. 


866 


A LOST WITNESS. 


I am afraid I shall have to turn strong-minuev. in my old 
age,” she said, sitting down beside the couch where Leah lay 
because her mother wished her to try and sleep. Your 
father is really outdoing himself in the way of obstinacy.” 

Oil, mamma dear, and it^s I who have made you all this 
worry and — ” 

Nothing of the kind, my dear child. It’s I who am to 
blame. I have humored your father in his obstinate moods 
until he has got the idea that they are a necessary part of the 
family discipline. I have always felt that I had a large sur- 
plus fund of stubbornness stored away in my own person some- 
where, because I have always conceded and seldom drawn 
upon my opposing forces. I intend to take the initiative, how- 
ever, tomorrow.” 

How, mother ?” 

Again Mrs. Paget smiled. 

Simply by showing him how easily I could have had my 
own way all these years, if I had chosen to try.” She smiled 
again and bent over to kiss the pale face upon the cushions 
of the couch. Don’t you think you can go to sleep now, 
dear ?” 

No, mamma. But I will make a bargain with you. If 
I am not asleep in half an hour, you shall lie down and try, 
and we will take turns.” 

Instead of replying, Mrs. Paget arose and lifted the softly- 
tinted shade that she might see the face of a tiny clock above 
the mantle. 

Before I do a thing so likely to leave me at your mercy, 
I think I will pay one more call below,” she said, with an as- 
sumption of cheerfulness she was far from feeling. 

But when she tapped at the door of the library, no one re- 


LEAH. 


367 


sponded, and, thinking that her lord was still in the suiks, she 
turned sadly away. 

At the foot of the stairs she paused, attracted by the sound 
of a latch-key and an opening door, and then Mr. Paget came 
in. 

I liave been to see the Chief of Police,” he said, I have 
withdrawn matters from his hands. In the morning Mrs. 
Paget, I shall wish a few words with you.” 

His wife bowed and silently returned to Leah. 

When Mrs. Paget’s turn” to rest came, she lay down with- 
out remonstrance, seeing that Leah was bent upon it ; and Leah 
herself drew an easy-chair quite close, so that she faced her 
mother, and, after a few moments, laid her head back with 
half-closed eyes. The tired, watchful mother noted this and 
thought ‘^She is going to sleep,” smiling a little, and watching 
her daughter between her own half-closed lids, until she fell 
asleep herself, and slept soundlv and long. 

It was nearly midnight when something like a sudden rush 
past her couch, and a stifled cry, awoke her. Springing up, 
she saw Leah fling herself down upon the floor of her chamber, 
where she lay writhing and sobbing wofully. 

Kneeling beside her, the mother besought her. 

What is it, Leah ? Leah ! My child ! What is it ?” 

From the sobbing, quivering lips she managed to catch these 
words, The window — Max.” It was the first time his name 
had crossed her lips, and Mrs. Paget understood. She went 
softly into the boudoir, where, only a moment before, Leah had 
lowered the lights, that she might look out into the night ; 
and, without looking out herself, closed the window and drew 
the curtains. Then she went back and knelt beside the pros- 
trate girl. 


368 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Leah/’ she whispered, tenderly— Leah, my dearest, try to 
calm yourself. Are you sure?” 

Sure ?” cried the girl, lifting her head and letting it fall 
again, Mamma, he saw me ! He called my name 1” 


CHAPTER L. 

MKS. Paget’s generalship. 

Mrs. Paget had not spoken idly when she told her daughter 
that she meant to take matters into her own hands. 

Ill the grey of the morning, when Leah had fallen asleep from 
sheer exhaustion, she wrote a note to Max Talfourd. When 
this was dispatched, and she had breakfasted, early and alone, 
she again sought admittance to the sanctum where her husband, 
grim and obstinate as ever, still held himself aloof from the 
life of the household. This time she was admitted. 

There was a new look in the eyes of Mrs. Paget when she 
confronted her lord ; and, if, at (he end of a scant half-hour, Ab- 
ner Paget, alone once more, found himself wondering if 
the world had really slipped from its orbit, and if the day when 

The last shall be first” had actually come, he had ample 
cause. 

One thing had been clearly demonstrated to him • namely, 
that Abner Paget was no longer the center of gravity around 
which the affairs of the Paget household turned. 

Mrs. Paget had not entreated her husband ; she knew bet- 



S69 







370 


A LOST WITNESS. 


ter than that. Neither had she commanded. She began by 
making one or two simple statements. 

As you have seen the Chief of Police/’ she said, there 
is nothing to be said on that point.” It was evident from her 
manner that she had not expected anything like an explanation 
of what had passed between himself and the Chief of Police. 

I have been talking with Leah,” she went on, and I am 
convinced that her case is one that I, her mother, can manage 
with the best results. You have never thoroughly understood 
Leah, and in her present state of body and mind, your meth- 
ods will not serve any good end. I think you will do well to 
refuse yourself to interviewers, and leave all to me.” 

Of course, Abner Paget was not able to agree with his wife. 
But she had not expected he would, and she had not come to 
argue, any more than she had come to entreat. She simply 
stated the course she had marked out for herself and Leah, and 
added : 

That which is done we cannot undo. But we can ward 
off some notoriety, and bear what we must with dignity. Del- 
icacy and tact may help us, and a properly- maintained reserve 
is the only fit and becoming course. If you will hold your 
self-control, and carry out my suggestions, I will undertake 
the rest. If not, I must ask you to inform me at once, for it 
is only upon these terms that we — Leah and myself — will re- 
main under this roof. I must ask for your decision by lunch- 
eon time. If it is adverse, we shall leave New York to- 
night.” She moved toward the door, and paused upon the 
threshold. Do not misunderstand me. Leah knows noth- 
ing of my plans, but she has promised to be guided by me.” 

She stood for a moment silently regarding him, and then, 
as he did not glance toward her or speak, she went out. 


MBS. PAGErS GENERALSHIP. 


371 


Half-way down the long hall she encountered a figure in 
trailing black garments, and stopped short, with grave unsmil- 
ing self-possession, and put out her hand. 

Sara — Mrs. Volney — is it you?’’ 

It is Sara, Mrs. Paget.” The long veil was thrown back 
with one hand while the other was given in greeting, and, for 
a moment, each woman scanned the face of the other. Then 
Mrs. Volney spoke. 

I have come at an inopportune time, have I not, Mrs. Pa> 
get ? Do not hesitate to send me away if I have, or perhaps 
I may see Mr. Paget ? I want his advice ; it’s merely upon 
a little matter of business. It’s not urgent — ” Then, as the 
grave eyes of the hostess still lingered upon her face, she broke 
olF to say, eagerly, Mrs. Paget, you look — oh ! have you any 
news ?” 

Mrs. Paget released the hand she had been holding. Come 
with me,” she said, and led the way to the little morning-room. 
When they were within, and the door closed, she came close to 
her visitor. What I tell you, you must receiveas a confi- 
dence for the present. It is not to be known outside of this 
house until certain arrangements have been made. Of course, 
we can trust you, as one of us.” 

I hope so, indeed !” murmured Mrs. Volney. 

Leah has returned.” 

Leah !” The two dainty gloved hands were fervently clasp- 
ed, the two beautiful pathetic eyes were uplifted. Oh, thank 
Heaven for that ! Mrs. Paget, is she well ? May I see her?” 

Leah is nut ill. Perhaps you may see her soon. I can- 
not give you particulars, Sara. I was just going out. Mr. 
Paget is in his library. I think he will admit you.” A slight 
smile accompanied the last word. Abner Paget’s admiration 


372 


A LOST WITNESS. 


for Sara Volney was an open secret to the friends of both. 

And perhaps you can win him over to our side. You 
must ask him what that means. Go to him now, my dear. I 
must order the carriage. I will leave you a message, if I do 
not see you again before I set out.” 

Leah was in her room when, a few moments later, Mrs. Pa- 
get entered, dressed for a morning drive. The girl was lan- 
guidly brushing out her long brown hair before a large mirror. 
She seemed calm enough, but the eyes she turned upon her 
mother were very sad. 

Going out, mamma ?” she asked, as her mother ap- 
proached. 

Only for an hour at the most, my dear. Why didn’t you 
ring for Martha ?” 

I was waiting for you, mother ; you may ring now if you 
will.” 

One moment, dear; Mrs. Volney is below.” 

Mrs. Volney !” As the girl uttered the name she seemed 
to stand more erect, her head to poise itself haughtily, her lips 
to set themselves in firmer lines. Does she know?” 

I told her. Of course she would like to see you. Are you 
equal to it ?” 

Equal !” the girl turned swiftly. I ? Look at me.” 

She held out two firm hands, her eyes were proud and cold. 

She is with your father now,” Mrs. Paget hastened to ex- 
plain. She has some business matter to discuss. You need 
not see her unless you wish.” 

Leah interrupted her by a gesture. 

I will not refuse to see Sara Volney,” she said. Only 
ring for Martha, mamma. She shall dress me, and I’ll break- 
fast in my room, when it is ready. Sara may come up. I’ll 


MRS. PA get’s generalship. 


373 


send Martha down for her, hut I shall keep Martha with me — 
to serve niy breakfast, you know.” 

That will do excellently,” said Mrs. Paget. Good-bye, 
dear, for a little while.” Slie rang for the maid in passing out, 
and met her a moment later at the foot of the stairs, hastening 
breathlessly to answer tiie welcome summons. 

Martha had not yet been permitted to see her young mis- 
tress, and her f ice was flushed with eager anticipation. Never- 
theless, she stopped at sight of Mrs. Paget a step or two above 
her on the stairs, and as she stopped she cast a quick glance 
around her, above and below. 

Wiiat is it, Martha ?” asked Mrs. Paget, pausing as tlie 
servant had done. 

Excuse me, Mrs. Paget,” whispered the girl, her gaze 
still wandering, ^^but there’s something I want to say to 
you.” 

Well, Martha, be quick.” 

Yes’m. It’s this, and if it’s none of my business I hope 
you’ll be sure that I mean well.” 

We are always sure of that, Martha,” said the lady, 
kindly. 

It’s about the new girl, Mrs. Paget — that Mary Hopkins, 
— and it’s just this. She hadn’t been here very long, you may 
remember, when Miss Leah Paget went away, and it wasn’t 
many days before I found out that she had a follower. I 
didn’t think of it before, but now I remember that she began 
to slip out evenings, quite late mostly, and by the side gate, to 
meet him. The first must have been not more than two or 
three nights after we missed Miss Leah.” 

“ Ah !” Mrs. Paget started, and laid a hand upon Martha’s 
arm. Come up here, Martha.” She turned back, went up 


.‘^74 


A LOST WITNESS. 


the stairs and stopped at the top, where she had a full view of 
the hall from front to rear. 

Now tlie rest, Martha,” she said, '' and as quick as you can.” 

Yes'm,” said the girl. It’s only this : When you told 
us all yesterday that we must not speak of Miss Leah’s cornin’ 
home, I happened to notice Mary Hopkins’ look, and I didn’t 
like it. It was impudent, and as if she didn’t mean to hold 
her tongue. I just said to myself then, ^ I’ll watch you, miss,’ 
and I did. Last night she crept out, and I contrived to fol- 
low her. I’ll tell you all about how I managed it another 
time, when you ain’t in a hurry. I didn’t get near enough to 
hear all she said, but she told him that Miss Leah was certainly 
home, and that she was shut up, and wouldn’t see anybody. 
I heard him pi’asiu’ her up then, and he said somethin’ about 
her bein’ sure to remember all that was going on, and especially 
who came here and who went away.” 

Martha paused from sheer breathlessness, and Mrs. Paget 
was silent for a moment. 

You are a faithful friend, Martha, and when I come back 
we will talk this matter over again. Go now to your mistress, 
and take good care of her until I come back. Do not speak 
a word of this to her.” 

When Ferrars left the presence of the Chief of Police, be 
turned his face toward the down-town rooms of Max Talfourd, 
where he expected to find, by appointment, Talfourd the elder 
and Sir Felix Wyntoun. 

Before separating on the previous night, he had advised Max, 
in very plain terms, that any effort to see Leah Paget or her 
mother, until after the next session of the Coroner’s inquest, 
would be to expose one, or both, or all of them perhaps, to ob* 


MRS. PAGET’s generalship. 


375 


servation, and to run the risk of new and dangerous compli- 
cations. Nevertheless, he found, upon descending from his 
own cab, a second vehicle in waiting, and in an instant after he 
encountered Max himself at the foot of the broad stairway, 
hastening streetward, a look of eager animation upon his face, 
and an envelope cnish('d between the fingers of his left hand, 
while his right tugged at the collar of his light top-coat. 

The first glance is enough — the detective puts out a hand, 
and stays his progress. 

‘‘Whither, my friend?” 

Max started and stopped short, recotrnizing him through the 
partial disguise of workingman’s best, with its accompanying 
air of plodding honesty. It was a favorite neglige with Fer- 
rars, easy to assume and safe to })ass unchallenged in a crowded 
street, but not intended for close meeting. 

“ I hardly knew you,” he says. “ I have just received a 
note from her mother, Mrs. Paget, you know. She wishes to 
see me.” 

The face of the detective became very grave. “And you 
were going ?” he asked. 

“ Yes. I — what else can I do ?” 

“ You can do anything else with more safety. Talfourd, do 
not be a boy. You cannot go there now.” 

Cannot?” Max flushed hotly. 

“ I said cannot — yes. Consider, man. Tlie lady who has 
sent for you does not realize the situation. I thought I had 
made it plain enough to you. You have no right tojeonar- 
dize this young lady. Do you realize that ?” 

Max looked down at the note. 

“ Yes,” went on Ferrars, hurriedly, “ I understand. The 
lady expects you.” He put his hand upon the young man’s 


376 


A LOST WITNESS. 


arm and his voice was suddenly and cuttingly cold. Either 
I am to be obeyed, or I leave the game in your own hands. It 
is too late for half measures. I thought we understood each 
other, Mr. Talfourd,” He drew out his watch and glanced 
down at it. “ I have said that you must remain here until it 
was time to go to the inquest. If there is a new commander, 
I abdicate. Choose.^^ 

The clear, cutting tones recalled Max to his sterner self. 

I beg your pardon, Ferrars,” he said. I believe I am 
a bit knocked out. Mrs. Paget asks me to come to her this 
morning. I thought I might, perhaps. She says — but read 
it,” and he thrust the note into the detective’s hand. 

Ferrars opened it and glanced at its contents. 

Leave it to me,” he said. “ You must not go there now. 
There’s a spy in the household. Go back to your den, and — 
have you been summoned ?” 

No.” 

Oh, they mean to put it off until the last moment, so that 
you may be taken by surprise, and have no time to })repareyour 
story. But do not flatter yourself that some sheriff’s deputy 
is not watching your every movement. Trust this to me. 

1 11 see that Mrs. Paget does you justice. As for you, your 
})lace, until the tocsin sounds, is here.” He jjaveMax a gentle 
push in the direction of the stairway, turned quickly and went 
out. A moment Inter, Max, standing with rueful countenance 
in the shadow of the doorway, saw him enter the waiting cab 
which had been summoned for himself, and rolled rapidly 
away. 

Ferrars did not go at once to the house of the Pagets. In- 
stead, he drove to his own lodgings and made some hasty 
changes in his personal a})pearance. 


A BUSY DAY. 


377 


Wlien he again set out, lie was a brisk, business-like person, 
such as were thick upon tlie street, with nothing remarkable in 
his appearance, unless it might have been his want of resem- 
blance to Francis Ferrars. 


CHAPTER LI. 

A BUSY DAY. 

After hearing the story of Martha, the maid, Mrs. Paget 
took a few moments for reflection, and then went back to her 
own room, where she removed her bonnet and street wraps. 
This done, she went below, on a tour of inspection. 

All the servants, at that hour, were or should have been on 
duty below stairs. But when the mistress of the mansion came 
down she encountered Mary Hopkins at the top of the basement 
flight. The girl had been taken as an assistant to the cook, who 
was an old and valued servant, and temporarily in need of an 
auxiliary, because of her too frequent attacks of rheumatism. 
The cook was trustworthy, and Mrs. Paget, assuming to sup- 
pose that Mary had been sent above by the head of her depart- 
ment, passed on with her usual kindly glance, and sought her 
chef, who was at that moment alone in the kitchen. 

Jane,’^ said the lady, I want you to keep Mary Hopkins 
under your eye. Give her plenty of work here, and do not let 
her get up stairs nor out of doors, until I relieve you. It won’t 
be long. Do you understand ?” 


378 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Jane thought she did. She shared Martha’s confidences and 
prejudices, and she heartily disliked Mary Hopkins. 

When Mrs. Paget came quietly up from the kitchen a mo- 
ment later, she surprised Mary loitering suspiciously near the 
door of the library, and this time she spoke. 

Your place is below, Mary.” The words were accompanied 
by a significant gesture, and she paused at the head of the base- 
ment stairs while the girl went sullenly down. 

As she again passed the door of the library, and heard the 
hum of voices within, she remembered, suddenly, who had sent 
her this girl, that had been playing the spy in her household, 
and some new thought presented itself. 

I’ll wait,” she soliloquized. I’ll question her before I 
go.” She turned and entered the morning-room, seating her- 
self near a window, with the door half open, giving her a view 
of the hall and stairway. 

Nearly half an hour had passed, when glancing out, she saw 
a man approach the entrance. He came on briskly, holding 
in his hand a little packet that might have been a file of bills 
or receipts. 

A collector,” she thought. As he rang, something 
prompted her to go to the door of the morning-room. In an- 
other moment she was confronted by the stranger, who had 
asked at once for Mrs. Paget, and then, she hardly knew how, 
they were within in the morning-room and the door was 
closed. 

The man took off his hat and bowed low. 

I am come with a message from Max Talfourd, Madam.” 

Yes ?” It was all she could say in her surprise. Ferrars, 
who thought and acted upon the instant, had made no effort to 
speak up to his character.” He was in the presence of Mrs, 


A BUSY BAY. 


379 


Paget, whom he had seen only yesterday, and he had formed 
his opinion of her first tlirough his ability to judge of charac- 
ter, and then through the Talfourds, father and son. He knew 
that he would need a friend in the Paget liousehold, and that 
he could not expect to find in Abner Paget tliat friend. Ab- 
ner Paget must be convinced and converted, and for this there 
was no time to spare. Already the detective had chosen Mrs. 
Paget as the one he must trust. She had not lost faith in nat- 
ural instincts and intuitions. She was quick to perceive; 
he believed that she would be firm to execute. 

It was impossible for Mr. Talfourd to come to you at 
])resent. Madam,’’ he resumed. Rather, he was persuaded 
that it would be unwise, perhaps absolutely unsafe — for him- 
self and for your daughter.” 

At first she had seemed only to listen to the tone. 

Impossible !” she repeated. Then her hand went out 
quickly to her breast, as if her heart had suddenly startled her 
by its bounding. Unsafe !” she said, tremulously, and — 
for my daughter ?” 

He bowed a silent repetition of the alarming words. 

Then she came close to him and bent her gaze upon his 
face. 

Will you tell me who you are?” she asked, quickly 

Gladly, if for the present you will allow me to withhold my 
name, and will consider what I say a confidence.” 

Yes, yes !” 

First, then, I am the person who came to you yesterday 
with a warning.” 

“ Ah !” The puzzled look went out of her face but the anx- 
iety remained. I thought so.” 

Yes ; I hoped you would recognize my voice. Next, then, 


380 


A LOST WITNESS. 


I am a friend of Max Talfourd. And lastly, I am a detective, 
endeavoring to serve him, and yourself.’^ 

She stood as at first, with her gaze intent upon his face, and 
he went on, speaking rapidly. 

Two days ago I was committed to Max Talfourd, to aid 
him in the search for the lady who has so unexpectedly re- 
turned to you. Yesterday, while in consultation with the 
Chief of Police, he was called to the scene of the late murder.’^ 
He stopped, seeing by the look on her face that she did not 
understand. You have been preoccupied,’’ he said. You 
may not know that a woman was murdered ni<]^ht before 
Inst?” 

‘‘ No,” she said, I have had no thought for — ” 

Pardon me,” he broke in, you can get all the details 
from the newspapers. The murdered woman was , slightly 
known to Mr. Max Talfourd. He had once chanced to call 
at her house. He will have to appear, as a witness, before the 
Coroner today, and as the time is very near, I thought it best 
that he should not come to you.” 

Why ?” 

Her voice was very steady now, but as she uttered the one 
word she sat down in the place nearest at hand. 

Madam, your daughter’s name has been widely published. 
Owing to this, is it not wise to be doubly careful ? Max Tal- 
fourd is known, to some at least, as your daughter’s betrothed. 
Would it be well, do you think, to let his name figure, as it 
assuredly will, in the report of the Dresden Flats Murder, and 
again, possibly in the same columns — for reporters are sensa- 
tion-hungry fellows — coupled with that of your daughter ? I 
have pledged myself to young Talfourd, but I found difficulty 
in persuading him to let me act as his messenger. I have 


A BUSY DAY. 


381 


spoken hurriedly. My time is limited. I hope I shall not be 
misunderstood.^^ 

Mrs. Paget arose, and without speaking went to the door, 
opened it and looked up and down the hall. Then she came 
back and stood before him. 

You have made me apprehensive,’’ she said, and I under- 
stand this : In some way, whether through Max Talfourd or 
otherwise, my daughter’s name promises to become connected 
with this — this murder. Who is the victim?” 

^‘An actress,” — his eyes were the watchful ones now — 

called Hortense Novalis.” 

^^She?” Her face betokened surprise but nothing more. 
‘^She was to appear yesterday — last night. She who has 
been so praised, so advertised ?” 

“ The same.” 

She stood for a moment regarding him silently. 

There is a mystery here,” she said, at last, and her face had 
grown very pale. There was enough of that before. I was 
about to call upon the Chief of Police, in behalf of my daugh- 
ter. Will you go there with me?” 

She put the question with sudden emphasis, and he smiled 
as he answered. Evidently, this quick-witted woman in- 
tended to put his claims to Captain Connor’s confidence to the 
proof. 

‘^Isee you are prudent as well as prompt, Madam. I re- 
gret that I cannot go with you until after this inquest, or this 
day’s session, is at an end. I am too fully occupied. But I 
give you full permission to tell Captain Connors of this visit 
of mine, and, when you have seen him, if you will honor me 
with an interview, say tomorrow, and at some place or other than 
here, I shall be your debtor. You are right in your surmise. 


382 


A LOST WITNESS. 

There is a mystery. But do not be unduly anxious. Above 
all, do not alarm your daughter, nor doubt Max Talfourd. One 
thing more : You have a spy in your household, Mrs. Paget,— 
one of your servants. Be watchful, and get rid of her as 
soon as you can j if possible, without letting her know that you 
suspect her. I cannot name her — ” 

It is not necessary, sir/’ she said, with sudden frankness. 

1 have already discovered the spy.” 

He took from his pocket a card and pencilled a few words 
upon it. 

If you will give this to the Chief of Police,” he said, ^^he 
will make plain to you all that I have omitted.” 

She took the card and moved toward the door, following him 
as he crossed the threshold. 

Mother !” 

Ah— Leah !” 

Mrs. Paget advanced a pace, startled, and, for a moment, 
bewildered. 

The self-confessed detective was standing, hat in hand, in 
the wide hail, midway between the door of entrance and the 
foot of the stairway, upon which, half a dozen steps above him, 
stood Leah. She had put on a flowing gown of palest grey, 
and she seemed not to have noted the woman with the golden 
hair and black garments, who stood half-way down the long 
hall, with her face uplifted and her eyes fixed upon the grey- 
robed figure upon the stairs. 

In reality it was but a moment. To Mrs. Paget minutes 
seemed to pass, while Leah looked down at her mother, Sara 
Volney looked up at her, and the detective, near the entrance, 
looked with a long and steady gaze first at one and then at 
the other. 


A BUSY DAY. 


383 


It was Leah who broke the spell, turning slightly and 
seeming to see Mrs. Volney for the first time. 

‘‘ Oh, Sara — Mrs. Volney — is it you 

She came down a step or two and leaned over the stair-rail, 
but she did not put out her hand. And as the lady in black 
swept forward to the foot of the stairs, the detective seemed 
suddenly to remember that he was making his exit. Mrs. Pa- 
get had signalled a servant, the outer door opened and closed 
again, and Francis Ferrars, striding down the broad steps, was 
muttering to himself : 

If only I could have heard her speak 

A moment later, an observer would have seen in the morn- 
ing-room nothing more remarkable than three ladies, each in- 
tent upon being civil to the others. And after a few moments 
of conversation, Mrs. Paget arose. 

The carriage is waiting,’^ she said, and I have an order 
to give to Jane. Leah, will you ring and ask Martha to bring 
down my bonnet 

^^Pray, Mrs. Paget, do not interview Jane on my account,’’ 
]\Irs. Volney said, laughing lightly. Mr. Paget has asked me 
to stay to luncheon.” 

Then I must indeed see Jane,” replied the hostess, and she 
went out smiling, while Sara turned to Leah. 

I have brought him some troublesome papers,’* she said, 
^^and he wants time to look them over. I am going to do 
something very desperate, Leah.” 

Jane,” said Mrs. Pa^t, when she had beckoned the cook 
into the pantry and closed and locked the door, I want to 
get Mary Hopkins out of the house as soon as possible. Do 
not be surprised at me, Jane ; it’s an odd thing I am asking 


384 


A LOST WITNESS. 


of you. I do not want the girl to know that I am aware of lier 
shortcomings. She is your assistant, you know. Can you not 
manage to quarrel with her just a little, and then make a 
complaint, or, better still, let her do it 

^^That I can said Jane, only too willing to be rid of the 
unpopular new help. I kin make two or three complaints 
right now, if you like, and be glad of the chance.^’ 

Captain Connors was alone in his office when Mrs. Paget 
was announced. He had been giving some serious thought of 
the case of Leah Paget and Hortense Novalis, and some new 
ideas had dawned in his mind. Hastily putting away the two 
strips of paper which were still before him, and upon each of 
which were now some queer-looking hieroglyphics, which he 
could read usually but which would have puzzled another seri- 
ously, he gave the word and the lady was admitted. 

Their talk was lon<;and earnest ; and when Mrs. Pairet went 
away. Captain Connors handed her To her carriage like a man 
doing homage to something fine and admirable, above the or- 
dinary. And he went back to his inner office with a softened, 
and earnest, and preoccupied look upon his face. 

The lady had given him her hand at parting, and as she 
drove away there was an expression of hopefulness in her fine 
eyes, although a long sigh escaped her lips, as she gave the or* 
der, Home.^^ 


MAX IS ADVISED FOR HIS GOOD. 


385 


CHAPTER LII. 

MAX IS ADVISED FOR HIS GOOD. 

When Ferrars was again upon the street, he found that he 
must change some of his plans. It was too late, now, for his 
interview with Frederick Quinlan, but for this he did not much 
care. He was becoming interested in this young man, just 
as he always found himself taking an interest in any strong or 
})articularly marked character. But the interest of a student of 
character, and a searcher after motives, such as w;is Ferrai's, 
did not necessarily mean admiration or sympathy. It was 
not often that this clear, cool-headed Englishman was seri- 
ously “ put out but once he had been known to sulk for 
three days because a noted criminal, brought by his own skill 
to the end of his tether, had been executed before he, Ferrars, 
had been able to decide, by personal observation, whether the 
man had become what he was through circumstance or by her- 
itage. For Ferrars, like most specialists’’ of his kind, was 
a theorist as well. 

His first act was to send a message to Quinlan, appointing 
an evening hour for their meeting, with the brief explanation 
that he thought it best to let the open inquiry pass before he 
put a finger upon the business.” 

The fellow i^ shrewd enough,” he assured himself as he 
penned the lines, ‘‘ whatever else he may be. He will under- 
stand me, I think.” And in this opinion he was quite 
correct. 


13 


386 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Next he sent a note to the Chief of Police. It was brief and 
could not be misinterpreted. 

^ Send the two men to me at the close of the afternoon’s pro- 
ceedings. Send also a third, an elderly man, a scribe, to re- 
main at ^ headquarters.’ — F.” 

When Captain Connors read this note he considered a mo- 
ment, then went across to the office where the old man sat upon 
his high stool, and three or four Specials” were always 
scratching off their reports at the long table. 

Daddy,” he said, I’ve got a fat job for you. Come in and 
receive instructions.” 

The old man wrote carefully on to the end of the line, dotted 
his I’s, crossed his T’s, added a period, wiped his pen, and then 
slid from his stool and followed his Chief. 

When the second message had been dispatched, Ferrars 
hastened to his lodgings, the ‘‘ headquarters” where he had just 
established himself. And here he soon retransformed himself, 
becoming once more the shabby, red-lidded reporter of the 
previous day, with the soiled note-book and cringing manner. 

Then he hastened to the rooms of Max Talfourd, where he 
found Talfourd senior and Sir Felix, as well as Max himself. 

It was nearly time to set out for the scene of the inquest, and 
the Coroner’s summons had been served upon Max iji the pres- 
ence of his father and his friend. 

I should like to go with you,” began Mr. Talfourd, but 
Ferrars broke in with a peremptory negative. 

It will not do. It will look as if you were anxious, as if 
you were making too much of your son’s small share in this 
business. As for Sir Felix, I sent him away yesterday; he 
will not go now, I hope.” 


MA^C is ADVISED FOR HIS GOOD. 


387 


Not I/’ said Sir Felix ; but I shall expect a full ac- 
count of proceedings/’ 

And that you shall have,” the detective assured him. 
Then he turned again to the elder Talfourd. I must remind 
you, sir,” lie said, “ that we have a complication of interests to 
guard. We cannot afford to risk anything. Neither can we 
venture to hope that, at the close of the Coroner’s investiga- 
tion, we shall have things our own way. In a case like this, 
and in a city overrun with detectives, private, regular, and ir- 
regular, there will be many complications. When we are out 
of the Coroner’s clutches, Mr. Talfourd, I shall ask for more of 
your aid and counsel, perhaps, than you will find it comfort- 
able to give.” 

If I find it possible,” said the father of Max, we will not 
consider comfort.” 

A moment later. Max and the detective were rolling toward 
the scene of the murder. 

I shall leave you before we reach the entrance,” said Fer- 
rars. And remember, you are not to see me, not to signal 
me. We cannot be too guarded before the Coroner and his 
good men and true.” 

Ferrars spoke quickly and his tone was grave. He was no 
longer the interested friend and sage adviser ; he had taken 
command. 

I do not pretend to disguise from you,” he went on, that 
the situation is a critical one. Do you fancy that Quinlan has 
any clue, any reason, any object, that he could further by bring- 
ing forward, in any way, the name of Miss Paget ?” 

Max started as if he had been stung. 

Do you mean before the Coroner ?” he asked, quickly. 

Yes.” 

If he dares — ” said Max, between his teeth. 


388 


A LOST WITNESS. 


‘‘Tut” broke in the other. Whatever he dares, in the 
presence of the Coroner, nothing can be so unsafe, so likely to 
injure her, as for you to show excitement, resentment, or fear 
of consequences. You must guard yourself for her sake. You 
were very near making a great mistake today. I arrived at 
an opportune time, and now I lay a new command upon you : 
You must not go near that house until you have the word from 
me.” 

Max looked a bit dissatisfied. 

“ You can write a note, if you choose,” said Ferrars, seeing 
the look, “ but it must be purely personal— not a word else, 
you understand ?” 

Max nodded. 

“ I have fully decided to suppress the photograph and let- 
ter,” went on Ferrars. “ Of course, you will be called upon 
to tell your version of the story of La Belle Fabrice and her 
unlucky call. And now, let me give you two or three hints. 
If you tell your story as you told it to us last night, it will 
not prejudice any one against La Belle Fabrice. You would 
naturally guard against that. But you must also guard 
against anything like being inclined in her favor. And there 
are two or three rules for ‘ amateur’ witnesses : Do not carry 
the air of knowing anything worth telling. Answer as often 
as possible by direct yes or no. Do not notice implied ques- 
tions, do not hesitate over your answers. Do not consult your 
memory : A direct ‘ I do not remember,’ often saves compli- 
cations.” 

Max laughed outright. “ I will try to be a model ‘ ama- 
teur,’ ” he said, “ but I do not fear the ordeal, thanks to yon,” 
his face becoming very grave. “ If it were not for that sup- 
pressed documentary evidence, it might be an ordeal indeed.” 


COUSIN WITHDKAWS. 


389 ' 


He started up as if struck by some unpleasant thought. Fer- 
rars/’ he said, gravely, in sparing me, are we making it harder 
for Fred Quinlan 

No,’^ said Ferrars, shortly. To tell all wouldn’t change 
or better Quinlan’s position. It would make yours hideous.” 
Max was silent for a moment. 

I abhor this thing that I am to do,” he said, then. It’s 
simply securing myself at his expense.” 

Nonsense !” 

If it were not for Leah — ” 

Ferrars laid a kindly hand upon his shoulder. 

Nothing that you could do or leave undone would alter 
the position of Frederick Quinlan,” he said, firmly. And it 
is not yourself that you must consider. It’s the peace of mind, 
perhaps the safety, of the woman you love. Harden your 
heart, banish your scruples, and trust a little to me. Oh, I 
must get out here.” He caught Max by the hand, gave it a 
reassuring pressure, and in a moment was out of the cab and 
away. 


CHAPTER LIII. 

COUSIN WITHDRAWS. 

There was a crowd before the door when Max alighted 
alone, and people were surging and clamoring all up and down 
the street. 

Newspapers and newsboys had made the great hostelry 
known as the Dresden Flats, notorious, and a large posse of 


390 


A LOST WITNESS. 


policemen were now required to keep place for those who 
must come in, as against those who would ; for those who were 
necessary to the Coroner, as against those to whom sensation 
was as the breath of their nostrils. 

The second session of the Coroner’s jury, in the case of Hor- 
tense Novalis and lier maid Vii ginie, was a long one, and quite 
as interesting as the first. It might be added that it was quite 
as unsatisfactory in its results. 

Max Talfourd was examined, but In’s testimony threw little 
if any new light upon the case. His answers were straight- 
forward, clear, and prompt, and left the gentlemen of the jury 
convinced that, aside from the occasion of his single call, he 
knew nothing whatever about Hortense Novalis or her maid 
Virginie. 

Frederick Quinlan was again questioned. It was his third 
appearance before the Coroner, and he seemed to thiidv it quite 
superfluous. He was questioned more closely than on the day 
before, and liis answers came promptly, and were marked by 
a cynical sort of frankness, and a manner of growing impa- 
tience quite new w'ith him. At the end, the jury were not 
much enlightened. 

Concerning Hortense Novalis and her career abroad, he 
could say little. Concerning her identity, nothing. He 
could only repeat and emphasize his story of the previous 
day. 

As a last feature of Quinlan’s examination, the will was pro- 
duced and put into his hand 

Mr. Quinlan, did you ever see that document before ?” 
asked the Coroner, with much gravity. 

I have,” Quinlan smiled as he replied. 

^lay I ask when ?” 


COUSIN WITHDRAWS. 


391 


I saw it yesterday, Your Honor, when it was produced here 
by the Chief of Police.’’ 

And now the jury smiled. 

Of course, of course — yesterday. I mean, sir, did you ever 
see it previous lo that time?” 

I have. I cannot name the precise date. It was shown me 
by the testatrix.” 

^^Then you know what it contains?” 

Yes.” 

State its contents briefly, if you please, prior to opening it 
here in evidence.” 

It is, I believe, the last will and testament of Hortense Nov- 
alis. It leaves a small legacy to her maid, Virginie, and the 
remainder of her possessions to myself.” 

This announcement caused a sensation among the listeners. 
But the opening of the will proved itstrutli, and the result was, 
of course, an added item in the scale against Quinlan. 

When the will had been disposed of, the Coroner addressed 
the jury. 

It was impossible to close the case here and now. There re- 
mained most important witnesses to be found and examined. 
It was impossible to guess what new turn their evidence might 
give to this lamentable affair, this twofold mystery. The 
Chief of Police and his detectives hoped to find these witnesses, 
all of them women, and it had been suggested that a postpone- 
ment of several days be made. It was now believed that some of 
the witnesses, perhaps all, had left New York, and time was re- 
quired to find and bring them back. In the meanwhile, it was 
his painful duty, etc., etc. 

Which meant that Frederick Quinlan was held to’bail as 
under suspicion. The inquest was to be re-opened as soon as 


392 


A LOST WITNESS. 


the needful witnesses were found. And the bodies of Hortense 
Novalis and her maid were placed in the hands of the under- 
takers, to be embalmed and deposited in a vault, there to await 
further developments or possible claimants. 

And now there was plenty of sensational material for the 
newspapers. Eeports of proceedings, interviews, prophecies, 
descriptions, conjectures. Rewards were offered for informa- 
tion concerning the absent witnesses, for the apprehension of the 
murderer or murderers. 

In the midst of these, on the day which followed the second 
adjournment of the Coroner’s inquest, a modest little paragraph, 
in a not too conspicuous corner of the leading papers, announced 
that, Miss Leah Paget’s absence, and the mystery concern- 
ing it, had ended in a most commonplace manner, the young 
lady being now at her home ; and the reason of her absence, a 
very simple one, and of no importance to any but the lady and 
her friends, had been made clear to all whom it concerned to 
know.” 

On that same day an advertisement which had held its place 
in the columns of half a dozen papei s for as many years, was 
dropped from each of them. It was quaintly worded, and had 
drawn forth many a comment during the long years of its stead- 
fast unchanging appeal. It ran thus : 

Dear little Bettie. The latch string is out, and I’ll try to make you 
happier. Come back to your poor old Setli, 

That was all, but it told its own pathetic tale. 

Two other small happenings, of more or less interest to our 
story, occurred on the afternoon of this same eventful day. 

The first was of greatest importance, perhaps, to the new 
housemaid in the establishment of Abner Paget. As may be 
presumed, the cook was ready with her complaint, which was 


COUSIN WITHDRAWS. 


393 


sufficient to arouse Mrs. Paget to instant action. She asked 
no questions and she answered none. Mary was paid liberally, 
a month’s wages in place of a month’s warning, and sent to Cov- 
entry forthwith. 

The second event took the form of a letter, written by Polly 
Cousin and addressed to his friend the Chief of Police. In it 
Cousin regretted that his increasing reportorial duties, together 
with a slight indisposition, made it necessary for him to with- 
draw, for the present, from all work that was not connected with 
his obligation to the “ CalV^ He would see Captain Connors 
at his earliest leisure, but feared that, between his literary work 
and the aforementioned indisposition, it might be some days be- 
fore he could hope to call, etc. 

This was the purport of Mr. Cousin’s letter to the Chief, and 
it threw that worthy into a rage. Knthing is more trying to 
friendship of the sort wdiich existed between the Chief and 
Cousin, than a sudden launch into the unexpected. And not 
only was this note unexpected in matter and manner, but it 
was out of character, coming from Cousin. "VYorse yet, it w^as 
evidently a thing that the English detective had foreseen. 

Polly Cousin is getting off his head,” he declared to him- 
self. I must look after him a bit. I must show Ferrars 
that billet doux,^^ And he did at the earliest opportunity. 

Ferrars read the note and smiled. And you do not under- 
stand how to account for this ?” he said, carelessly, as he laid 
it down. 

No, and neither would you, if you knew Cousin as I do.” 

Knowing him as I do,” said Ferrars, let me advise you. 
Before many days. Cousin will drop in upon you, and make 
careless inquiries about Miss Paget. If this happens, or when 
it happens, be very guarded.” 


394 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Captain Connors favored liiin with a prolonged stare. 
Well/^ he said, at length, it’s your affair now, and I’m glad 
of it.” 


CHAPTER LIV. 

FREDERICK QUINLAN. 

When the English detective, according to appointment, paid 
his visit to Frederick Quinlan, the advantage was not all 
upon the side of the latter. Before approaching his man, Fer- 
rars had of him as exhaustive a study as time would allow, 
aided by the information set forth in certain neat and firmly- 
written documents, each bearing upon its outer folds the words, 
^^The Paget Case,” and marked severally within, upon a top 
line, ‘^F. Quinlan,” Possible enemies ofL. P.,”‘^F. Q., 
discarded suitor,” Quinlan’s habits, haunts, etc.,” and signed, 
severally, Nickerson, Waters, Brown, etc. This was supple- 
mented by verbal information from Max Talfourd, from Tal- 
fourd senior, and from other sources. So Ferrars, who one 
week before had been ignorant of the existence of such a man 
as F. Quinlan,” now knew him quite well. 

You see,” said Quinlan, when he had greeted his guest, 
I had a slight advantage over you at our first meeting. I 
happened to be in London about seven, perhaps eight months 
ago, at the time when the Corriston Case was the topmost sen- 
sation. Naturally, I wanted to see the lion of that famous af- 
fair, and you were pointed out to me one day in the Park. I 
have a good memory for faces.” 

Ferrars received this with the greatest composure. 


FKEDERICK QUINLAN. 


395 


A good memory is an excellent he replied. I be- 
lieve that I remember voices best.’’ 

As he seated himself before a long, narrow library table, in the 
chair indicated by his host, who took another just opposite, Fer- 
rars looked around him with some interest. Quinlan lived 
in bachelor’s apartments ; and if the other rooms were like this, 
Ferrars thought, then indeed, the sybarite, the favorite of la- 
dies, the dainty trifler with cards, and fastidious owner of fast 
horses, must hav- a sterner, a more practical side. The room 
was a well-equipped combination of library and study, and, 
while in all its appointments it indicated wealth and a refined 
taste, there was no obtrusive display of either. There were 
books in costly bindings upon low shelves, upon high shelves, 
upon tables and brackets ; there was an escritoire that was ev- 
idently for use ; there were easy-chairs and a long low divan ; 
costly rugs and furs were scattered about the polished floor ; a 
few rare engravings and good bronzes. Butnotliing for mere 
display ; nothing useless, no affectation of collections” or 
odd bits,” nothing amateurish. 

As his eyes wandered from point to point, Quinlan noted 
his gaze, and recognized the approval in it. 

I hope you like my den,” he said, lightly. It’s my rest- 
ing-place, my refuge fromipetty storms. I fitted it up two 
years ago, when I felt the need of a })lace where I might flee 
now and then ^ far from the maddening crowd,’ from bric-a- 
brac and five o’clock' teas, and germans and drawing-room 
gossip. Some people, who think they know me, and who do 
know of a few of my vices, wouldn’t believe it, but it’s neverthe- 
less true, that no woman has ever put her foot across my thresh- 
old. I have one superstition : When a woman succeeds in 
forcing an entrance here, I shall be undone. I am sure of it.” 


396 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Ferrars, sitting opposite liim, smiled slightly, and Quinlan 
checked his speech, not abruptly nor as if conscious of too much 
volubility. He smiled too, and pushed a box of cigars across 
the table. 

Make yourself comfortable,’’ he said, he himself setting the 
example. And then tell me — have you considered my re- 
quest ?” 

It was not necessary,” said Ferrars, not heeding the box at 
his elbow ; am committed.” 

Committed ! and may I ask to whom ?” 

To justice,” replied the clear-eyed detective, and to the 
innocent.” 

If by that you mean that you intend to devote yourself to 
the solution of this mystery, — to the finding of the murder or 
murderers of poor Hortense, — then I ask no more — except this : 
that you spare no pains, no expense, and that you allow all that 
is done to be at my cost.” ’ 

Ferrars never permitted himself to harbor a prejudice, nor 
to form an opinion based upon the evidence of others, although 
he sometimes arrived at swift and astonishingly accurate con- 
clusions at first sight, or upon very brief acquaintance. As 
he sat there, his calm eyes studying the face of the man be- 
fore him, he found himself mentally forcing his mind to hold 
judgment in abeyance and only to observe minutely. He said 
as little as possible. He came to listen, and Quinlan found 
that he could listen well. 

Of course,” Quinlan went on, I do not care to have this 
made too public. Do not mistake me there. I do not crave 
notoriety ; not of that sort, at any rate. I want justice done, 
and I am ready to do the thing I can do best ; that is — ” 
smiling slightly and with a touch of cynicism in the smile— 


FREDERICK QUINLAN. 


397 


to put my hand in my pocket. May I ask if you were at 
the inquest yesterday 

It was now Ferrars’ turn to smile. ‘‘I was at the inquest/^ 
he said. 

“ Ah.” Quinlan’s gaze was openly admiring. I looked 
for you, I assure you, and my eyes are tolerably keen.” 

Yes,” assented Ferrars, I noted that. You had a com- 
panion — a legal gentleman,, was he not ? May I ask — ” He 
hesitated. 

You may ask anything, Mr. Ferrars — that is, anything 
pertaining to this subject, and I’ll answer as well as I am 
able. Indeed, that was my motive in seeking an interview. 
I wanted to tell you what I know about Hortense Hovalis, 
and then ask you to make such use of my information as 
seems good, in finding the key to these bloody mysteries. 

He stopped speaking, and sat for a moment looking straight 
into the face of Ferrars. 

At any rate,” thought the latter, it cannot be said that 
this young man has not a direct gaze.” 

You asked about my companion,” resumed Quinlan. He 
is a friend and a lawyer; the man I should retain in any se- 
rious encounter with Dame Law. He’s young in years, but al- 
ready pretty well known ; Herbert Grote — perhaps you have 
heard of him ?” 

Yes,” assented Ferrars, I have heard of him.” 

Frederick Quinlan threw himself back in his chair, and 
took a long look at hisms-a-ws. Then he leaned forward and 
spoke. 

Mr. Ferrars, if you intend to interest yourself in this case, 
regardless of me, I consider it more than ever necessary that we 
should understand each other — at least that you should under- 


398 


A LOST WITNESS. 


stand me. From the first moment that I stood beside the 
dead body of Hortense Novalis, I have foreseen the natural, 
the inevitable, consequence of this investigation. I do not 
intend to stand up before the Coroner and his jury and tell 
what I shall tell to you, and such information cannot be 
drawn from me, because of his lack of knowledge. I do not 
fear the result to myself of anything that may be developed at 
the inquest.” 

It was evident to me,” said Ferrars, drily, that you had no 
reason to fear undue pressure at the hands of the Coroner.” 

Quinlan smiled slightly, and banished the Coroner from the 
conversation with a wave of his hand. 

A Coroner’s inquest always seems to me a farce,” he said. 
Its publicity is more apt to result in harm than good. It 
keeps the criminals forewarned, and I believe it has helped 
more scoundrels to esca{)e than it has ever brought to justice. 
If you will listen to my story, you may depend upon it to be 
complete and truthful. All I ask is that you will not use the 
information I give you until after the inquest.” 

I do not commit myself with the business in any way un- 
til after the inquest,” said Ferrars. You may count upon my 
discretion, now and then. I am ready to listen.” 

He leaned back in his easy-chair and half closed his eyes. 

And I am ready to begin,” said Quinlan. If you want 
to ask questions by the way, do not hesitate,” 

I shall not,” said the- detective. 

My knowledge of Hortense Novalis,” began Quinlan, 
dates back to the time of her advent upon the London stage. 
I arrived in that city at the very height of her popularity. 
Why,” stopping to look keenly across at his guest, you surely 
must have seen her then ?” 


FREDERICK QUINLAN. 


399 


A slight smile hovered about the lips of Ferrars. 

“I did see her. Go on, Mr. Quinlan/^ 

“ Then,” resumed Quinlan, I need not speak of what she 
was, of how completely she filled the eye, how perfect an image 
of beauty she was, how the painters raved over her. You 
must know all that. In all the universe, among all the beau- 
tiful creations of God and nature, there has never been any- 
thing that could equal in all things, in anything, the beauty 
of a beautiful woman. Pictures ai-e mere mockeri('S ; no artist 
has ever yet caught and preserved the entire charm of living, 
breathing, graceful womanhood, at its best. I am an admire r, 
a worshipper, of beauty, and for a fortnight I haunted the the- 
atre where Hortense Novalis, the most thoroughly beautiful 
specimen of the Andalusian type that I have seen, was nightly 
visible. I did not seek her acquaintance then, and 1 have 
since, had reason to think, that if I had, it would have been 
an unsuccessful effort.” He uttered a half laugh. I should 
not have been doubtful of my success here, but in New York 
there is no Eoyal favor to be bestowed upon houris. While 
Hortense still held sway in London, 1 set out on a further 
pilgrimage. Not long after, while I was at Monaco, I read 
of the sudden exit of Hortense from the stage, and, so far as 
could be known, from London.” 

As he paused, Ferrars, who had been listening with half- 
closed eyes, looked up. 

I know nothing of the movements of Hortense Novalis, 
afier she left the London stag(‘,” he said, in answer to the look 
of inquiry in the face of his vis-a-vis. 1 was not interested 
in the career of that young woman — beyond a certain point.” 

Ah !” Quinlan flashed u^^on him a look of intelligence. 
It was in Paris that I next met Hortense Novalis, and there 


400 


A LOST WITNESS. 


made her acquaintance. She was in a position of peculiar isola- 
tion. You perhaps know, since you know so much, that she 
was not a person of deep culture or varied knowledge. Here, 
and perhaps in London, by using great care she might have 
])assed successfully, and for a long time, for a Frenchwoman. 
But Hortense Yovalis was not a Frenchwoman, although she 
undoubtedly had French blood in her veins. She never could 
have been made into a Parisienne. She lacked lightness, 
adaptability, and the patience to apply herself to any tedious 
effort. She had come to Paris with a purpose, with a strange 
ambition. It was said of her that she was extravagance in- 
carnate, that she never saved a penny of her salary upon the 
stage, and that she was always in debt. Nevertheless, she 
brought with her, when she came to Paris, a modest fortune. 
She installed herself in sumptuous apartments, and with high 
hopes.” 

He pondered a moment and then resumed. 

“ I may as well say it : Hortense was both ignorant and 
vain, although it sounds ungracious for me to do so. The lit- 
tle French she knew was execrable, and she could not master 
Parisian French. She was just opening her eyes to the fact 
that she could not make herself a career in Paris, when Fate 
threw me in her way. I was travelling for amusement, and 
having learned the world pretty well, I carried my honors as 
an AnK ricau citizen modestly. But I was a godsend to Hor- 
tense ; the only man she knew who was not likely to hail her in 
French, or otherwise stir her grievances into fresh life. We 
became great friends, and under the impression that I was an 
American abroad upon a limited income, she patronized me 
amazingly, and gave me the novel sensation of being valued for 
myself alone.” 


FREDERICK QUINLAN. 


401 


He was smiling cynically at the recollection, and Ferrars 
smiled too. The latter had ceased to sit with half-closed eyes, 
and was listening now with direct attention. 

We became, as I said, very good friends,’’ went on Quin- 
lan. I took care not to let Hortense be undeceived about 
myself and the state of my purse. She thought it was not 
worth while to make me a victim, so she made me a confidant. 
I have every reason to believe that the little she told me of her 
story was true, and I will try and tell it to you, not as she told 
it to me, disconnectedly, in fragments, as caprice moved her. 
What I am about to tell you is the result of many meetings and 
many words, on the part of the narrator. Some of it I had 
pieced together into a partial history of a strange career, before 
I left her in Paris. And some I have learned since she came 
to New York. Yes,” in answer to a look or movement of sur- 
prise, I left her in Paris. Did you fancy she came with me? 
By no means. That only shows that you do not know me 
yet.” 

Across the face of Ferrars a queer smile flitted. There are 
indications,” he said, ^^of a better acquaintance. And now — ” 
‘‘ And now I will give you — mind, this is not my history ; 
as nearly as possible I shall efface myself — I will give you what 
I have named to myself ‘ The Parisian Episode,”’ 


402 


A LOST WITNESS. 


CHAPTER LV. 

THE PARISIAN EPISODE. 

Hortense Novalis was American born, and grew to girl- 
hood in a country town. I do not know her name. About 
herself, and her life previous to her debut in London, she was 
very reticent. I have no doubt, however, that she had French 
blood in her veins, — good blood, probably unfairly come by. 
As you may suppose, I did not trouble my head with specu- 
lations as to the past of the new Stai-. Some one had given 
her a brief stage training, and launched lier as an actress, in 
the Provinces at first, of course. Then she attracted the admir- 
ing notice of some influential personage, and lo ! she was a great 
actress, and all London was at her feet.” 

Mr. Quinlan paused here to place his own feet more com- 
fortably, and resumed. 

As I have said, I was at Monaco when I heard that she 
had left London suddenly and very quietly, and soon after 
that she was established in Paris. Later, I learned some of 
the facts connected with her flitting. Perhaps,” pausing to 
look sharply across at Ferrars — perhaps I am telling you an 
old story ?” 

Go on,” was the non-committal reply of the detective. 

“ It appears that a certain young heir to a title and a fortune 
fancied himself in love with Hortense. He was betrothed to 
a very proper young woman, with atiractions similar to his 
own. A worldly parent coming on the scene, with plenty of 


403 


THE PARISIAN EPISODE.’^ 

money and a superaoundance of executive force, arranged mat- 
ters, probably with a little assistance and in a worldly-wise fash- 
ion. It is said that the young lady visited Hortense in person. 
At any rate, by bullying and cajolery adroitly mingled, and 
backed by an ample purse, the dangerous beauty was safely 
transferred to Paris. Before going, it is said, she treated the 
love-lorn youth to a severe snubbing, and he, believing him- 
self outrivalled, gave up the chase and returned to his old al- 
legiance.’’ 

One moment,” said Ferrars ; do you know the name of 
the young man in question ?” 

Quinlan pondered a moment. If I did,” he said, finally, 
it has escaped my memory.” 

Am I to understand, then, that the lady, Hortense, did 
not confide in you to the extent of — ” 

Allow me,” broke in Quinlan. Hortense Novalis was the 
last woman in tlie world to recount or dwell upon any episode 
whicli did not reflect credit upon herself. Vanity was her rul- 
ing passion, and her desire to be thought clever was only second 
to her vanity.” 

“ And how did such a woman as you have described suc- 
ceed, or hope to succeed, in Paris?” 

First, she was fortunate in securing the services of a 
thoroughly Parisian maid, who was of much use to her. The 
woman conceived one of those queer womanish attachments for 
her mistress, and soon became her confidante. Before I left 
Paris, I knew that Hortense and Virginie were plotting some 
new enterprise, but she had grown so cunning under Vir- 
ginie’s tutelage that I could get no inkling of it. We parted on 
the most friendly terms, and I told Hortense, half in jest, that 
she ought to come to New York ; she would be sure to score a 


404 


A LOST WITNESS. 


triumph, on or off the stage. Of course, 1 promised to intro- 
duce lier to all the gaieties, if she chose to come. Tliat she 
came, you know. But before she came, she had reaped tlie 
benefit of another turn of fortune’s wheel. Some secret or 
remembrance, carried in her memory since childhood, she had 
made known to her maid Virginie, when they had become 
sufficiently intimate ; and, behold ! connected with it was the 
name of an old, proud, and enormously wealthy family resid- 
ing in Paris. In this family were three marriageable daughters, 
and two married sons ; and it is not likely that Hortense would 
have been able to establish even a very remote claim to kin- 
ship. But there was no such need. With a courage born of 
ignorance, egotism, and a certain lawlessness that was one of her 
strong traits, Hortense called at the house of these great people, 
and lo ! it was done. The resemblance between the young- 
est daughter of the house and Hortense Novalis was so strong, 
so wonderful, that it threw the great family into a panic. And 
once more Hortense was bidden ^ move on,’ which she did, 
with considerable addition to her neat little fortune. Of 
course, I did not learn this, all of it, from herself ; but a friend, 
residing in Paris, chanced to have dealing with parties who 
acted as mediates for the great family, and I was in possession 
of the facts before Hortense had landed in America. I have 
no doubt but that the woman, Virginie, reaped a rich reward, 
for she was the one who finally prevailed upon Hortense to 
give up her idea of setting herself up for a sort of Cora Pearl, 
and using her strong resemblance to*the French family’s beauty 
for her own advancement.” 

He checked his speech for a moment while he chose a fresh 
cigar. 

Probably, the good souls who like to think the worst of 


‘^THE PARISIAN EPISODE.^^ 405 

me and of mankind in general, would be surprised to learn 
that Hortense Novalis did not cross the ocean out of regard 
for me, but simply because it seemed to her expedient to do so. 
She wrote me that she was coming, and instructed me to secure 
for her suitable apartments. I don’t mind owning to you that I 
was rather glad she was to come. I do not take defeat kindly, 
and, in a little affair in which my feelings were uncomfortably 
active, I had been getting the worse of it. More than that, I 
was seeing the ‘ other fellow’ scoring an easy victory over me. 
When I learned that Hortense was really coming, I decided 
to make the most of it. I got a little enjoyment in thinking 
of the surprise it would be to her to find that I was not quite 
‘ nobody’ over here. Of course, I knew that Hortense would 
make a sensation, and I was willing to help her to the little 
triumph here that she had missed on the other side. When 
she came, and found all in readiness for her, she was really 
grateful. I had made my arrangements through an agent, 
and they suited her perfectly. Poor Hortense ! poor girl !” 
He sighed heavily. Now, about La Belle Fabrice : All 
that is a mystery to me — her connection, if any, with Hortense. 
I believe that there was a reason, something more than she 
told, but the nature of it — well, an idea has occurred to me, 
but it’s only an idea. Hortense had a vein of superstition, and 
she was childishly afraid of sickness and death. When she 
was angered, or as she thought ^ insulted,’ she was inclined to 
be vindictive. She was also, out of her inordinate vanity, 
jealous.” 

You mentioned an idea, concerning La Belle Fabrice,” 
suggested Ferrars, mildly. 

Yes. Pardon me ; I was working toward that when I 
mentioned the superstition of Hortense. She came here, as I 


406 


A LOST WITNESS. 


have said, the })ossessor of a considerable fortune. She was 
pleased with her new home, and looked upon me as the cause 
of her present comfort, and possibly, as needful to her future 
prosperity. At any rate, one day, after her recovery from one 
of the attacks such as Doctor Grove described before the Cor- 
oner — you may remember it?’’ 

Ferrars nodded. ! 

She was subject to these attacks, purely nervous and the 
result of fatigue, too many sweets — Hortense was a bit of a j 
gormand — outbreak of temper, or a combination of these | 
causes. And she looked upon them as very serious, as was 
natural to her temperament. ^yelI, as I began to say, after 
one of these fits of hysteria, she astonished me with the informa- 
tion that she Had been making her will, and she produced a 
copy of the document. Imagine my surprise when I found 
that I was her principal legatee, with Virginie, her maid, to 
whom she had bequeathed her wardrobe — all but the jewels — 
and a few thousand dollars.” 

“ Oh !” Ferrars turned upon him a look of re-awakened in- 
terest. Was that the will now in the Coroner’s possession ?” 

Yes. You can see why I was very glad that it was not 
opened and read at once.” 

Ferrars made no comment, and Quinlan went on. 

One does not often grumble at a will made in one’s favor ; 
but I assure you that the possibility of inheriting from Hor- 
tense Novalis did not fill me with unalloyed pleasure. If I 
had been a poor devil, I might not have been so thin-skinned 
— who knows ? Besides, I knew, or believed, the will to have 
been made upon the impulse of the moment. I sat down and for 
the first and the last time, tried to talk ^ conscience’ to Hortense. 

It was upon this occasion that I learned the very little that 


407 


THE PAKISTAN EPISODE.’’ 

I know of the girl’s past. You do not need to hear what was 
said on both sides. From being serious Hortense became re- 
miniscent. She talked a little other mother, to whom she had 
never written, and did not even know if she was alive; and 
a little of two girls, who had been her playmates in her country 
home. She fancied that they might be dead, possibly mar- 
ried — of course to some clown, and raising in })ovei ty a brood 
of children. She spoke of them patronizingly, and called them 
‘ poor things.’ Evidently, she had been the daring one, the 
leading spirit, in the days when they were comrades. One of 
them she described as ^ A sweet little thing, good-natured and 
sort of pretty, but woth no wit and no ambition.’ Of the other, 
I remember her exact })hrase : ^ Slow and sleepy and selfish. 
Nothing seemed to put lier out, and yet siie always managed to 
have her own way.’ I remember that I laughed over this, and 
she finished by describing her : ^ She wasn’t much to look at, 
though ; a slim pale thing, with red hair.’ ” 

Did she name them ?” 

Not she. I told you Hortense was a mixtui’e of openness 
and cunning. She did not tell me their names, nor did she 
change the will. She simply drew up a sort of codicil, which 
she placed in my hands while she retained the will herself. By 
this codicil she stipulated that in case of her death, and my 
inheriting after her, I was to use every effort to find, first, her 
mother, and then her two girl companions.. If the mother 
lived, I was to make certain provision for her, and each of the 
two girls, as she called them, was to receive a small legacy. 
If the mother was dead, that which would have been hers was 
to be divided between the two girls. In either case, she left 
all to my honesty, only her maid, Virginie, being a witness. 
And the document, the codicil, was given into my hands 


408 


A I.OST WITNESS. 


sealed, and not to be opened until after her death, and I, by 
the terms of her will, had become her heir. By Uiis means, I 
was not much wiser than at first, for the names of her 
mother and the two girls were written in the sealed document 
I held, and were not made known to me.” 

And that document ?” asked Ferrars. Yow have that, 
of course ?” 

No. It has been destroyed ; and here is the point ; here 
we get back to La Belle Fabrice. In telling my story before 
the Coroner, I told it with sundry reservations. Over these 
things, Mr. Ferrars, I have thought much within twenty-four 
hours. Let me tell the rest, from my present point of view.” 

As you please,” assented Ferrars. 

Mention has beeu made of a woman, who was seen in the 
rooms of Hortense, or hanging about them. It was on the 
occasion of my first encounter with that woman that Hortense 
first mentioned to me the name of La Belle Fabrice. I had 
promised to come at a certain hour, and drive with her out 
Harlem Way. I arrived prompt to the minute; M^lle hated 
to be kept waiting, and it ruffled her temper. As I entered 
the anteroom, which I did without the ceremony of ringing, I 
heard the voice of Hortense. She was in her dressing-room, 
and she said to some one invisible to me, ^ Don’t fail, then. 
I’ll be alone and I’ll have time to talk with you.’ I did not 
hear the answer, but in an instant Virginie came out, and 
opened the outer door for a woman, a small woman with 
black eyes. It was on this occasion that Hortense said of her, 
in answer to my question or comment, ^ Yes, the beggars have 
found me out.’ I did not press the subject, but I lingered a 
little beyond my usual time on our return from the drive, and 
when I left I saw the woman hovering about autside as if she 


409 


“ THE PARISIAN EPISODE/^ 

were waiting for some signal. This was less than a week be- 
fore that memorable dinner, which was spoiled by the abrupt 
departure of Max Talfourd and La Belle Fabrice.” 

Oh \’^ broke involuntarily from the lips of Ferrars. 

I saw Hortense again that evening, after the second visit 
of the strange woman. And then, for the first time, she spoke 
the name of La Belle Fabrice, plying me with questions aboiit 
her. Had I seen her ? Seen her upon the stage? Was she 
a fine actress ? Was she at all pretty ? When would she make 
her debut f Where did she live ? etc. I think it was on that 
evening, also, that she began to talk of Max Talfourd, She 
had seen him two or three times, and it was clear to me that 
his big figure and fine head had made a strong impression upon 
her. She made me promise to bring Talfourd to call upon her. 
She was greatly excited that evening, and unusually talkative 
and capricious.” 

Again his eyes sought the face of Ferrars, again he smiled 
as he resumed his story. 

“ After that, I heard a good deal about Talfourd, and a lit- 
tle about La Belle Fabrice. Knowing Hortense as I did, it 
was evident to me that she was unusually preoccupied. To be 
quite candid, I fancied that she was nursing her admiration for 
Max Talfourd, and laying plans for his subjugation, and I con- 
fess that it amused me, and that it also amazed me a little.” 

Go on,” said Ferrars, like one growing impatient. 

One day she said to me, ^ I have seen your La Belle Fa- 
brice. 1 clonT call her a beauty.^ Two days later she sent me 
word that La Belle Fabrice was to dine with her, and that I 
must bring Talfourd, without fail. You know the rest of that 
chapter ?” 

Yes,” assented Ferrars. 


410 


A LOST WITNESS. 


But there is a sequel. There was never any explanation 
of that episode — the sudden leaving of La Belle and Max 
Talfourd. Hortense had already got herself unduly stirred up, 
and she went off into one of her very worst ‘ attacks’ of nervous- 
ness. It was on that occasion that Doctor Grove was first called 
in. Two days later, she commanded me to bring her the codicil. 
Of course I complied, and then Hortense cut out that par- 
agraph by which she ga ve a legacy to each of her two girl friends, 
and made Virginie so much the richer, so that myself, Vir- 
ginie, and her mother, were left as heirs. The names were held 
back even more carefully than before, and the new codicil given 
into my keeping. It contains, I suppose, her mother’s name, and 
place of abode, and was to be opened, like the otlier, after the 
reading of the will, and acted upon at my discretion. That 
document I have in my possession.” 

Is there no more to tell ?” asked Ferrars, gravely. I 
would like to ask a few questions, just here.” 

‘‘ There is more to tell,” said Quinlan, but the questions 
may come first.” 

For a moment Ferrars scanned his face narrowly, then he got 
up, as if sitting had become weai’isome, and standing before the 
table looked across it and down into the face opposite him. 

Mr. Quinlan, what is your precise object in being thus 
frank and circumstantial with me ?” 

Instantly Frederick Quinlan, with head thrown back and 
eyes meeting his fairly, was on his feet. 

My object, Mr. Ferrars,” he said, with dignity, “ is to put 
you in possession of all the facts in the case, as nearly as I 
can, or as they are known to me ; to be perfectly frank on my 
own part, lest by any reticence of mine, I cause you to err or 
to be at a loss.” 


THE PARISIAN EPISODE^' 41 1 

Yesterday/' went on Ferrars, in what might have been 
a moment of excitement, you said something like this : that you 
expected the finger of suspicion to point to you, and that the 
circumstantial evidence in the case would be against you. Was 
that your meaning ?" 

That was my meaning." 

Then, let me ask you, since you foresee, even now, that you 
must put yourself on the defensive, since virtually you are 
— pardon me, but how do you hope to be benefitted by such 
an avowal as you are now making ?" 

“ My avowal is intended to benefit you, Mr. Ferrars, as 
well as myself. Wait ; hear me out. You have said that you 
are committed to justice and the defense of the innocent Is 
that vstill your ground ?" 

Undoubtedly." 

“Then let me tell you what I expect of you. First and 
best, I expect you to find the murderer. Failing in that, I 
expect you to vindicate the accused, be it myself or whomso- 
ever it may. The horrible wrong, so often done in the name 
of justice, will not satisfy me in this case. If I am openly 
accused of the murder ofHortense Novalis and the woman 
Virginie, I expect you to prove me guilty or prove me inno- 
cent. No jury's Ulisagreement' for me ! No ^ not proven !’ 
Show that I did the deed, or that I did not do it, and could 
not have done it ! Hang me, or send me forth vindicated ! 
And, if I he shadow falls upon another, do for him or her the 
same good work. Do not send a human soul out into the 
world with a bloody doubt suspended for life over his head, 
darkening all the future for him." 

For a moment their eyes met as if in a challenge. Then 
the detective put out his hand. 


412 


A LOST WITNESS. 


What does that mean asked Quinlan, for a moment 
holding back his own. 

It means that I am going to take you at your word,’’ said 
Ferrars, in a voice that was very solemn in its low, slow im- 
pressiveness. 

And then the two hands met. 


CHAPTER LVI. 

THE CODICIL. 

If that man is guilty,” thought Ferrars as he resumed 
his seat, he’s an actor to wonder at. Now,” he said, aloud, 
Fm going to cross-examine you.” 

Go on,” said Quinlan, indifferently. 

At the time when the lady made known her wish to meet 
Max Talfourd, what were your relations with him ?” 

Of the ordinary sort ; acquaintances of long standing, 
moving in the same society, belonging to the same club. Not 
congenial spirits, by any means ; and a little additional cold- 
ness had sprung up because of — because we both wanted to 
marry the same woman.” 

I comprehend,” said the detective. Will you give me 
your opinion of Max Talfourd, as a man ?” 

There’s only one word to say of Max Talfourd ; his worst 
enemy couldn’t change it. He’s a fine fellow, with ho ^ bad 
habits.’ Popular, and deservedly so. There’s no use in cry- 
ing down Max Talfourd.” 


THE CODICIL. 


413 


What were your feelings when your friend Hortense 
asked you to present him ?” 

Candidly, as I have said before, I was a trifle amused at 
the caprices Fate seemed bent upon, and a little annoyed to see 
Talfourd winning everywhere — to my loss. If I had loved 
Hortense, it might have been worse. But I did not love her 
well enough to be jealous. And I knew I had no cause to fear 
Max, in this case. He’s one of your loyal Quixotes, and I 
knew Hortense wouldn’t weaken him.” 

When you were told that La Belle Fabrice was to be of 
the party, on the day of Talfourd’s presentation, what did you 
think was the motive — on the part of Hortense ?” 

‘‘Simply this, at first : I took it as a bit of Hortense’ pecu- 
liar cunning. I had expressed my admiration for La Belle 
Fabrice a little too openly, unfortunately for myself ; and Hor- 
tense, bent upon making a conquest of Talfourd, had hit upon 
the idea of using Fabrice as a means by which to divert me, 
and give her a chance of exercising her charms upon Max. 
She meant to pair us off to suit her purposes.” 

“ Do you know how she contrived to get La Belle Fabrice 
to come ?” 

“ No. Hortense had no lady visitors, and her isolation was 
a sore wound to her pride. To be snubbed by a woman was 
more than she could bear, and she was not attractive to women. 
She did not speak of Fabrice, after that little contretemps^ until 
she got it into her head that she must appear upon the stage 
with her. Of course, I knew that her pride was involved. 
But I gave the Coroner my real theory about that ; all the 
opinion that I had or have.” 

“ All ?” 

“ All, with this reservation. Looking back and pondering 


414 


A LOST WITNESS. 


over these things, I had. reasoned like this ; It was after the 
two visits, upon the same day, of the old woman we have spoken 
of, that Hortense first mentioned La Belle Fabrice. It was 
after the contretemps that she revoked her legacies and changed 
her codicil, cutting out her two former friends. Considering 
these things I asked myself, Might not this old woman be 
some former acquaintance of Hortense ; some one who knew 
the two companions as well ? Might not this old woman have 
seen Fabrice and, afterward, Hortense ? May she not have 
told the one of the nearness of the other, and the rest have fol- 
lowed naturally ? Hortense, not knowing or realizing or car- 
ing for the difference in their social standing, writes a little in- 
formal note, which brings La Belle Fabrice here quite as in- 
formally. She comes, and has only to use hereyesto know the 
truth. Don’t you see that it would be quite natural for La Belle 
Fabrice to seek to bury the whole thing in oblivion, by hold- 
ing her tongue and asking Talfourd and myself to do likewise ? 
It would be natural, to Hortense, to hold her peace from sheer 
chagrin at her defeat.” 

True,” assented Ferrars ; it’s a clever theory. And now, 
did Hortense succeed in meeting Max Talfourd?” 

Not to my knowledge.” 

Did you hear her allude to him again ?” 

Yes. I think she fully expected, at first, that he would re- 
peat his visit. Hortense, as I have said, was vain and perhaps 
a little obtuse. It did not occur to her that any man would ig- 
nore her in that cool way. After a time she became silent con- 
cerning Max Talfourd, and finally she changed her mind about 
him, and only spoke of him to say some derisive thing. This 
proved to me that the slight hurt her more than she would own.” 

Did she ever write to him ?” 

To Talfourd ? No, I don’t think so.” 


THE CODICIL. 


415 


Could it be possible that Mr. Talfourd and she met clan- 
destinely 

I might think that of her, not of Talfourd.’’ 

Ferrars was silent a moment. He seemed not to see his way 
clearly. Then — 

^^Mr. Quinlan,” he asked, suddenly, ^^did you ever hear 
Hortense Novalis utter the name of Leah Paget ?” 

Across the fair face of young Quinlan came a quick wave of 
crimson. No !” he said, curtly. 

Again for a moment both were silent, each studying the face 
of the other. Then Ferrars spoke. 

Has it ever struck you, as a coincidence merely, that Miss 
Leah Paget disappeared from her home on the night of that 
unlucky affair, that encounter of La Belle Fabrice, Tal- 
fourd, and yourself at the door of Hortense Novalis’ apart- 
ments ?” 

No,” said Quinlan, with a start ; and then he added, “ But 
I do not see the connection.” 

No ?” said Ferrars, absently. 1 only asked you to see — 
the coincidence. Let us go back to the original subject. I 
want you to give me a more detailed account of your last inter- 
view with Hortense Novalis.” 

What I can tell you about that night and what followed it, 

is, in my opinion, more important than all tiie evidence the Cor- 
oner will hear. I should not have let you go without hearing 

it. You know, of course, all that was said before the Cor- 
oner ?” 

Yes.” 

Well, it was true, but not all of the truth, up to a certain 
point. I told the Coroner that I came to the place at ten 
o’clock or thereabouts ; that Hortense was in fine spirits, and 


416 


A LOST WITNESS. 


(liat she turned me out soon, to try lier new gowns. All was 
true ; but when he asked me about the maid, I lied.’^ 

Ferrars looked grave but made no comment. 

I did not care to tell the Coroner’s jury that I admitted 
myself with a pass-key, but that is what I did. Tlie first 
thing I saw was Virginie, asleep, and breathing heavily, coiled 
upon the divan, where she was found by you next morning. 
I left my key in the door, on the outer side, and went past her 
softly, upon the further side of the room. There were two pass- 
keys: the one I carried, and the one which always-hung upon 
a gilded hook at the side of the door ; on the inside, of course. 
As I liave said, the rooms were one blaze of light, and Hor- 
tense was fairly glowing with excitement, and full of her an- 
ticipated triumph. She had brought out her jewels, and they' 
were scattered all about, and I could see that she was anxious 
to have me out of her way so tliat she might dress and admire 
herself. I asked her why she did not rouse Virginie, and she 
said she didn’t want Virginie; she was a nuisance sometimes. 
I would have aroused the woman, as I had sometimes done 
before, if Hoi tense had not said that. Instead, I passed out 
as softly as possible. As I came into the anteroom, and the 
curtains closed behind me, I fancied that the light was burn- 
ing dimmer than when I first entered. But I dismissed the 
thought as only a fancy. My key was in the lock, and I re- 
member distinctly that I locked the door carefully, thinking 
the while that Virginie slept too heavily to make a good outer 
sentinel. When I came in the morning, I found the door 
locked, apparently just as I had left it.” 

‘^Oh,” broke in Ferrars, you said — ” 

Yes. I told you I had lied to the Coroner. When I 
went out that night, I set the spring-lock and noticed that the 


THE CODICIL. 


417 


key was in its place upon the hook inside. When I came 
back the door was locked siill, and I used my key to admit 
myself. The other key, when I found my senses enough to 
look for it, was hanging in its place. You see — he groaned, 
and dropped his head upon his hand, you see now, perhaps, 
what it is that I have in my mind.^’ 

The eyes of the detective were fixed upon one of the rugs 
near his feet, and he did not lift them as he said : 

It will be best, I think, now that you have gone thus 
far, to put into plain words all that you have not yet 
spoken.’’ 

Perhaps you are right.” Quinlan dropped his hand and 
lifted his head again. Sometimes things that have passed 
under one’s observation, almost unnoticed, come back at a later 
time with startling distinctness, and with a new meaning. 
In this way some thoughts have come tc me. Now, note this ; 
I went to see Hortense, as I have said, at ten o’clock or a lit- 
tle later. The door was fast locked, the maid asleep, Hortense, 
with all her rooms aglow with light, was hovering over her fi- 
nery, full of excitement and eagerness. As the minutes passed — 
I can see it clearly now — her excitement increased, and she was 
eager to have me go. It was a relief to her, I am sure of ir, 
when I finally went. I can see her as she stood beneath the 
han2nino:s at the door of her boudoir. I never saw her so 
handsome, so glowing and triumphant. I laid it all, at the mo- 
ment, to her enthusiastic expectations of the coming stage de- 
but She was like one intoxicated with her own charms, and 
with visions of coming conquests. Ybw, I think that she was 
so ready to have me go, and so full of eagerness, because she 
expected some one elsej^ 

Suddenly Ferrars looked up. His thoughts flew instantly 
14 


418 


A LOST WITNESS. 


to the letter in his possession, the letter signed Hortense,^’ and 
written to Max Talfourd. 

If that was true,^^ went on Quinlan, hurriedly, if she did 
expect a visitor, say at midnight, and if that visitor came, while 
I was yet there, let us say, and while my key was in the door, 
what then ? He opens the door, while the maid sleeps on, low- 
ers the light a little, stands close back against the wall at the foot 
of the couch where the maid lies, and where there is a little 
space between the wall and the divan’s foot, and the hangings 
fill in heavy folds. One could easily stand or crouch there, 
unseen in the dim light of that room. If some one Aac2 entered 
so, and lurked there until I had passed out, donH you see — ” 
His voice ceased from sheer huskiness. 

I see,” said Ferrars. For your own sake, Mr. Quinlan, 
say no more.” 

I have said enough, have I not ?” said Quinlan, with a 
mirthless laugh. At any rate, I have now told you all that 
I know — all. If I had said this to the Coroner, when he 
questioned me about the condition of the door, what would 
have been the result ?” 

The result ?” Ferrars was again upon his feet, but his 
tone was perfectly calm and not unkind. The result ? Mr. 
Quinlan, you know as well as I, that, if you had told this — 
all tliat you have told me — to a Coroner’s jury, you would now 
be a prisoner charged with double murder.” 

That is what I anticipated,” said Quinlan, gloomily. 
And after that, a long-drawn-out investigation, with all its 
attendant notoriety.” 

I hope,” said Ferrars, with a sudden change of manner, 
that we may be able to find an end to this tangled skein with- 
out so much delay as you seem to anticipate. Mr. Quin- 


THE CODICIL. 


419 


Ian, that codicil you told me of — is it in your possession 

Without a word Quinlan went to the esc/ritoirey unlocked a 
drawer and took from it a sealed envelope. 

Here it is/^ he said. 

And the seal unbroken 

Quinlan took up a paper-knife and deftly broke the seal. 

Read it,^’ he said, and held it out to the detective. 

Without a word Ferrars complied. ^^Do you know what 
it is he asked, then. 

^^No; except as I have told you.” 

Listen,” said Ferrars. 

^ Instead of to my two old playmates, let one of the leg- 
acies meant for them go to my maid, Virginie ; the other, to 
my mother, whose name is Mary Holly, of South Brandon.” 

South Brandon,” echoed Quinlan. state, t hen ? that’s 
like her. South Brandon — Mary Holly. Well, Mary Holly 
of South Brandon will have a decent fortune, if she is still liv- 
ing.” 

Ferrars put the codicil down upon the escritoire, You 
mean by that — what?” he asked, curtly. 

Simply that if the mother of Hortense Novalis can be 
found, she will have her daughter’s fortune.” 

Ferrars laid a hand upon his arm. 

That will sound very well,” he said, coldly, if you re- 
serve it, and it is said — at the right time.” 

And when will that be ?” 

“When the innocent are vindicated, the guilty punished, 
and the mother of Hortense Novalis found — alive.” 


420 


A LOST witness. 


CHAPTER EVIL 

BEGINNING IN EARNEST. 

“ At last we may begin in earnest/^ 

It was Francis Ferrars wlio spoke, with Captain Connors 
and the elder Talfourd sitting opposite him. The place, his 
new headquarters,’^ and the hour, midnight, following 
upon the day which saw the examination of the Coroner in- 
definitely postponed. 

Once at the end of this ceremonial, the detective had lost no 
time in calling upon the two, and laying before them an out- 
line of some of his plans, together with his reasons for the 
same. 

His two auditors looked convinced but somewhat startled, 
while Ferrars was his usual composed and grave self. And 
when they had listened for a half hour to his low, firmly- 
spoken, terse sentences, this gravity was reflected in both their 
countenances. In the face of the elder Talfonrd there was re- 
gret and anxiety, and Captain Connors remarked upon it. 

'^I confess,” Talfourd said, that I’m thinking about Fred 
Quinlan. And my son feels a bit uneasy yet. Somehow, it 
looks as if we were putting all the weight of suspicion upon 
him.” 

We are,” said Ferrars. 

Yes. And Max — he hasn’t been too fond of Quinlan, but 
he feels now as if he were enjoying immunity at his expense.” 

I don’t think you quite know young Quinlan,” said Fer- 


BEGINNING IN EARNEST. 


421 


rars. He wouldn’t trouble himself with such scruples. 
What he wants is conviction or vindication, and 1 have prom- 
ised him one or the other. 

When Max Talfourd’s father left them, the Chief drew his 
chair close to the round table and took up a pen. Now,” 
he said, I’ll write you that little document.” He began 
to write, and Ferrars, with a very serious face, paced the 
floor. 

The little document” consisted of only a few lines, and 
as he signed, folded, and enclosed it in an envelope, the Chief 
began to talk, 

‘^I’ve been asking myself what would have become of this 
precious muddle if you hadn’t dropped down among us, Mr. 
Ferrars. I confess that I should have floundered at the first 
bog. I wish I might ask you one question.” 

Ferrars stopped short, just opposite the Chief. Ask,” he 
said. 

Is the course Quinlan has taken that of a guilty man ?” 

It’s the course Quinlan would take — if he were guilty.” 

^^By which you mean, that, if he had committed a murder, 
he would be the man to ask himself, ^ What would I do if I 
were an innocent man ?’ and then to do it.” 

Yes,” assented Ferrars ; Quinlan’s quite equal to that.” 

it all !” The Chief pushed back his chair and got up. 

There’s your note. Commander ; excuse my forcible lan- 
guage, What I wanted to ask is this : Is Quinlan guilty ?” 

Ferrars came nearer and looked at him steadily across the 
table. 

No,” he said, at last. 

Another forcible” ejaculation burst from the lips of the 
Chief. 


422 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Then — then, what about Max Talfourd ? Aren’t we — 
excuse me — but are we not running a great risk ?” 

Are you jumping to the conclusion that if Quinlan did not 
do the deed, Talfourd must have done it ?” 

Doesn’t it look so ?” 

Not to me.” He came closer to the Chief and lowered his 
tone almost to a whisper. I do not believe that murder was 
committed by any man alive.” 

The Chief opened his lips, but a gesture from Ferrars 
stopped his speech. 

There was a hasty step outside and some one knocked loudly 
at the door. It was the man Michael, already entered upon 
his duties. He came in panting, his shrewd face and alert 
eyes telling as usual half his story. 

Well, Michael ?” said both his superiors, in the same 
breath. 

It’s this, sir,” said the man, saluting both. The new 
firm is out in full cry — watchin’ the Dresden Flats place, and,” 
with a grin, after Fred Quinlan.” 

The new firm ?” Ferrars turned a look of inquiry toward 
Captain Connors. 

It’s a new Detective Agency,” explained the Captain, with 
a touch of scorn in his voice. Private, you know ; working 
for rewards, for glory, for anything.” Then his sense of ius- 
tice came to the defense of the absent new firm.” “ They 
have got two or three good men, though ; ^ can’t deny that.” 

When upon interrogation it was found that the new firm” 
had done nothing, as yet, more startling than to place shadows 
about the Dresden Flats and the rooms of Frederick Quinlan, 
Michael was duly instructed as to his further duties, and dis- 
missed. Then Ferrars obtained from the Captain all the in- 


BEGINNING IN EARNEST. 


423 


formation he could give concerning the new Detective Agency. 

I don^t think you need anticipate much trouble from 
these fellows/’ said the Chief, at the end. 

Possibly not. Certainly not so long as they devote them- 
selves to Quinlan.” 

And Quinlan — by the way, I have thought over the story 
he told you. Do you think what he said about the career of 
Hortense Novalis abroad is to be relied upon ?” 

I have the best of reasons for thinking so,” responded Fer- 
rars, gravely. If I had not, I could easily verify any state- 
ments concerning the Paris or London business.” 

Well,” said the Chief, rising, wish we were all well 
out of this. There’s your letter — I suppose I am not to be 
let into the mystery of its meaning ?” 

Not yet,” replied Ferrars, with a smile. 

When he was alone Ferrars re-perused the letter with any- 
thing but a smiling face. It was brief and very simple. 

It introduced the bearer,” and requested, over the 
official signature, of the person to whom it should be presented, 
that he would give any information, and in every way possible 
assist or serve the person who should present it, thereby 
obliging, etc. In short, it was an official passport, to the con- 
fidence of any to whom it might be tendered. 

I hope I may not need it,” muttered the detective, as he 
put it away carefully. But if I do, it will serve, I think.” 


424 


A LOST WITNESS. 


1HAPTER LVIII. 

LEAH AND MAX. 

Francis Ferrars was a good general, and he soon had his 
small force in perfect subordination. First, there was Sir Felix 
Wynton n, who, during these days of suspense and anxiety, had 
no tnought but for La Belle Fabrice, her probable whereabouts, 
and possible danger. Given a clue and a word of encourage- 
ment from the detective, he would have followed it around the 
world, a very knight-errant. For, while he was very silent, 
very undemonstrative, and at no time inclined to argue or ques- 
tion, he clung grimly to his faith in the girl he loved. 

Of course, you know what yoif re about, Frank,” he said 
to the detective, at the close of a long and exhaustive argu- 
ment, and Ihu bound to fellow your lead. But all this silence 
and mystery is deuced hard on a man, and I cannot make my- 
self doubt that little girl, even in the face of the whole of it.” 

My dear fellow,” said Ferrars, I doif t ask you to doubt 
her. Of course you mean La Belle Fabrice. On the con- 
trary, do not doubt her, until you must. Never doubt any wo- 
man until she forces your scepticism.” 

And with this Sir Felix was compelled to be content. 

It cost the detective more than one argument, however, be- 
fore he had fully conquered Max Talfourd. 

When the Coroner’s inquest had been for the second time 
postponed, Max would have set out for tiie Paget mansion 


LEAH AND MAX. 


425 


forthwith. But this Ferrars would not permit 4.nd after a 
time his arguments prevailed. 

Max was not lacking in common sense and courage, and to 
these the detective’s reasonings were addressed. 

He might write, however, always under certain restrictions ; 
and wi’ite he did. At first just a few lines, an eager assurance 
of his unswerving devotion, and an appeal for an interview. 

It was Mrs. Paget who replied to the first note, briefly and 
kindly. 

Leah was grateful for his kindly expressions, but at present 
she could see no one. She begged him to be patient and to 
wait. 

Max waited — twenty-four hours. Then he wrote again, this 
time to Mrs. Paget as well as to Leah. 

In the meantime Mrs. Paget was being enrolled among the 
conspirators. 

On the second day after her call upon Captain Connors, that 
official sent her a note, and acting in accordance with instruc- 
tions therein contained, the lady ordered her carriage, and after 
an early luncheon set out alone. Ostensibly, she was going 
shopping. But she left her carriage on Broadway, and walked 
a little distance, turned down a cross-street, hailed a cab, and 
was driven straight to the new ^^headquarters” of the En- 
glish detective. She found both Captain Connors and Ferrars 
awaiting her arrival. After a long conference with these two, 
she returned home with a very serious face, and with her mind 
filled with new thoughts, new hopes, new fears. But with no 
doubt, from first to last, as to her own part in the strange 
drama about to begin, and full of courage for the ti ial. 

It had been decided, during her interview with Captain 
Connors and Ferrars, that Mrs. Paget was to receive Max Tal- 


426 


A LOST WITKESS. 


fourd, before he was permitted an interview with Leah ; and 
that she, always of course with her daughter’s consent, was 
to make him acquainted with the facts concerning Leah’s home- 
coming. The mother was then to advise her daughter to re- 
ceive Max, but was to leave her to take her own course during 
the interview. 

And so, when Max sent his third note of appeal, he was re- 
joiced to receive from Mrs. Paget permission to call, with a 
promise that when she had said a few words to him, he should 
see Leah. 

But if Leah was left free, as she must be, to pursue her 
own course. Max was not. And when he set out for the home 
of his affianced, it was with a grave countenance, and anxiety 
was mingled with his eagerness. Eagerness, at the very 
thought of her ; of her face, her voice, her touch, of what she 
might say to him. Anxiety, when he remembered all that 
he must say, or that might be said to him, as it should hap- 
pen. 

Just what passed between Mrs. Paget and Max Talfourd 
need not here be recorded. 

With her new and keener insight into the complications 
surrounding them all, she had taken on, if that were possible, 
an added tenderness and consideration. But then Max had 
always been dear to her, first for his mother’s sake, then for 
his own, and lately for Leah’s. 

She told him the story of her daughter’s home-coming, with- 
out comment, just as she had told it to Ferrars and the Chief. 
And she made him aware of the present state of affairs in her 
household. 

Leah had been prepared for his visit, and had consented to 
see him. Presently the mother rang, and sent a message to 


LEAH AND MAX. 


427 


Leah, asking her to come down, as if the call were of the utmost 
ordinary nature. Eager, yet hesitating, she came slowly 
down. 

Mrs. Paget was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, and 
she took her two hands gently but firmly between lier own. 

My dear,’^ she whispered, I have told Max all that I 
know. Is not that what you have wished 

^^Yes, mother,^’ said the girl. It is what I should have 
done, and — I think it would have been more than I could go 
through with. Thank you ; thank you a thousand times ! 
Now I can say the rest ; can tell him good-bye, I hope, with 
decent composure.^’ 

Then go, dear.” The mother smiled a little as she pushed 
her toward the door. God bless you both !” 

Leah opened the door of the morning-room, crossed the 
threshold, and then, — she could never tell quite whether slie 
herself had closed the door or whether — but what did it mat- 
ter ? — somehow, the door closed, and she, who had meant to 
enter so calmly, to preserve her dignity and be quite deter- 
mined yet reasonable, found herself caught and held by two 
strong arms, kisses showered upon her lips and cheeks and 
eyes, murmured words of love and welcome and thanksgiving 
falling upon her ears ! For one glad moment everything was 
forgotten, except that she loved Max Talfourd with a mighty 
love, and that lie was beside her. 

Then everything came back in a rush of misery, and she 
uttered a low stifled cry, so full of pain that it struck him like 
a blow, and wrenched herself from his clasp, putting half the 
width of the room between them, and turning upon him a pallid, 
despairing face. 

So, for a moment, they confronted each other, and then all 


428 


A LOST WITNESS. 


that was best and strongest in each seemed to assert itself. He 
came toward her and spoke gently and firmly. 

Leah, my darling, your mother has told me everything 
that is necessary, more than I would have asked of yon, 
more than I needed to know. There is one thing that I care 
for now, only one. You have come back to me, and I only 
care for you.’’ He was looking, smiling, straight into her face. 

She sighed, and a long shudder shook her whole delicate 
frame. 

I have come back — yes,” she said, brokenly, but not to 
you.” 

Not to me ? To whom, then, and why ?” He took a step 
nearer, but she put up her hand, 

“ Don’t — ” she said, sharply ; “ don’t come nearer ; you 
must not.” 

But why, Leah ? Why may I not approach iny promised 
wife?” He held his place, and she moved back and sank into 
a chair, that he might not see how her coward limbs had failed 
her, how she was quivering again from head to foot. But she 
gained no advantage by this, for he at once seated himself and 
drew his chair directly before her, with scarcely the space of 
a foot between. 

My promised wife,” he said again, softly, as if he enjoyed 
the sound of it, and he smiled still, though the smile was 
touched with sadness. 

Sitting thus, with his eyes upon her face, she was silent for 
long moments, fighting to regain her self-control, and at last 
her strong will and the Paget pride conquered. He did not 
know it, but his very attitude, the smile upon his lips, helped 
her immensely. 

Max,” she began, slowly, as though not quite sure of her- 



Tortured ! You ? What do you think I have felt, and 

AM FEELING NOW ? ” Page 43 1- 


429 


430 


A LOST WITNESS. 


self, if my mother has told you all, she must have told 
you that, for me, there is no past, and no future ex- 
cept such as comes from day to day. Max, I beg of you, do 
not try me too much. I cannot bear it. I am not as strong as 
you think, and I need to be very strong. I am not youi* 
promised wife any more. I retract all my vows, and you must 
not object. It will make no difference if you do, only — that 
it will be harder for me.” 

For a moment he sat regarding her silently, a great pity 
and a great longing in his eyes. Then, with evident self-sup- 
pression, he spoke. 

Do you want me to understand that whether I wisli it or 
not, however much it may hurt me, you mean to give me up, 
to retract your promise?” 

Yes,” she breathed, with her eyes upon the floor. 

“ Wlien did you first arrive at this decision, Leah ? Was it 
before you left — even a day, an hour before ?” 

No.” 

When, then ? Answer me ; when ?” 

She lifted her eyes to his face. You will not spare me,” 
she said. I see that I must suffer it all. It was when I 
first found that there must be a passage in my life, a time to 
be counted by weeks — weeks that have been longer than years, 
that must be ever dark to you and to all my friends. It was 
not before my going away. You know that.” 

Then the change is not in you ? not in your thoughts 
and feelings?” 

Again her eyes were downcast. It may be in my thoughts ; 
it is not in my feelings.” 

Leah, do you know what that implies ?” 

She did not answer. 


LEAH AND MAX. 


431 


Answer this one question/^ he urged. Is it solely because 
of this mystery, which you cannot make clear to me, to any 
one, that you wish to break our bond ? Is that the only rea- 
son r 

She pushed back her chajr and arose to lier fullest height. 

Yes,” she said, passionately, it is because of that. How 
often will you make me say it before you will be satisfied, be- 
fore I have been tortured enough ?” 

Tortured !” And now was Max on his feet again. Tor- 
tured ! You ? What do you think I have felt, and am feel- 
ing now ? Leah — ” Before she could evade him, he had 
caught her hands and held them fast, drawing her forcibly tow- 
ard him as he spoke. Look at me. Answer me. I know 
that you loved me when you promised yourself to me ; do you 
love me less now ?” 

No.” Site made no effort to release herself, and she looked 
him full in the face. 

And since then, has there been any time, any day, hour, or 
moment, when you have loved me less ?” 

No, no, no !” she cried. ‘‘ Don’t you see ! don’t you compre- 
hend ! It is because I love you that I will not be the cause of 
any shame to you, or any doubt, now or in time to come. Be- 
tween husband and wife there should be no secrets, nothing less 
than perfect mutual understanding, perfect trust. Max, you 
know that. Ask yourself, if, in my position you would not do 
as I have done. One may ignore past errors, past sins, even ; 
may forget and forgive a wrong confessed. But a mystery in the 
life of the being nearest you, a clo'jed door in the heart that loves 
you and that you love — you could not bear it, and the stronger 
the love the greater the torture. I will not tell you an un- 
truth, Max. No, no !” He had made a sudden movement 


432 


A LOST WITNESS. 


toward her. Be strong for me, Max, if not for yourself 
Not long ago, by hours and weeks — ages ago, it seems to me, 
by the torture of the intervening days^ — I stepped across my 
father’s threshold and out upon the street. All my life looked 
fair before me ; there was not a clo.ud upon my horizon. I was 
thinking, oh, how happily ! of you ; and of — yes, I will say 
it — of our future, yours and mine. Yesterday,” her voice fell 
to a hushed whisper, and every word marked a stab in the 
girl’s heart — yesterday, I crossed that threshold again, the 
same Leah Paget, just as honest, just as free from any taint or 
intended wrong, just as true to you, and loving you just the 
same — yes, more ; for it was the love that feels the wrench of 
parting already began ; that hears the clods upon the coffin 
lid. It was your promised wife that went out. It was a 
broken-hearted woman who came in ; a woman lost to yon, lost 
to herself, lost to hope, and almost lost to her faith in God !” 

He had released her hands, and now, before^she could stay 
him, he folded her in his arms again. 

It was an angel who went out,” he cried ; an angel and 
a martyr who came back !” 


CHAPTER LIX. 

SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. 

Leah caught her breath sobbingly. Before she could speak 
or stay his movements, he had lifted her hands, first one and 
then the other, to his lips, and seated her in a low chair, drop- 
ping down upon one knee beside her, and began to speak in low 
and earnest tones. 


SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. 


433 


Leah, do not remonstrate, my darling ! Do not think 
that I disregard your trouble, or that I hold it lightly. By 
and bye, if you will, we will return to that again. I cannot give 
you up yet, dear, although later I may be forced to do so — 
not because of your secret, my dearest, but because — because I 
may come under the ban. I am menaced by a serious danger, 
Leah.^^ 

You 

Yes, I. Wait, dear, and let me ask you a question. It 
takes you back to the day on which we last saw you, or the day 
before — I hardly remember which.” 

What is it ?” she asked, quickly. 

On that day, or one of those days, I sent you a photograph 
and a note ; quite a lette:*, in fact.” 

He stopped, she was looking at him inquiringly. 

Leah, did you get that note ?” he asked, huskily. 

No,” she S5jid. 

Leah, are you sure ? Think, dear ! The photo was one 
of Bo waif s, a profile only ; the letter — ” 

She shook her head. 

I asked you once to sit for a profile,” she said, slowly. 
But I never saw it.” Then something in his face made her 
start. Max !” she cried, what is it?” 

He was very pale and his lips were quivering. He held out 
both his hands, and looked straight into her eyes. 

Put your hands in mine, Leah,” he said, gently, and she 
complied. Listen, dear, and take away your hands when 
you will. Yes, I, too, have my mystery.” 

You !” Her fingers tightened about his. 

Leah, have you read in the papers of the murder of the 
French actress ?” 


434 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Horteuse Novalis ? Yes, I have read a little. Only the 
head-lines, I think.^^ 

About the time of your flitting, I sent you a letter and a 
photograph. On the same day, or a day after, I had occasion 
to call at the house of this woman, Hortense Novalis.” 

Instantly the girl drew back a little. 

Wait, dear. Hortense Novalis was killed on the night be- 
fore you came back. And one of the officers who was first on 
the premises, and who made a thorough search through tliem, 
found, under the dead woman’s pillow, a letter signed ^Max,’ 
and a photograph. It was my photograph, Leah, and it was 
the letter I had written to you. I liad not used your name, and 
it began simply ‘ My darling,’ do you see ? as if it had been 
sent to her.” 

Tlie fingers clasped in his quivered and loosened their pres- 
sure, but they did not withdraw themselves. 

If this had been all,” he went on, your name, my dar- 
ling, might never have been mentioned in connection with 
that hideous event. But, in searching further, they found in 
the grate, I believe, the envelope that contained that letter, 
with your name upon it.” 

The loosened fingers tightened their clasp again. She 
bent toward him a white, scared face. 

Max,” she whispered, what does it mean ?” 

They are trying to find the murderer, Leah. Fred Quin- 
lan has fallen under suspicion; it is known that we were 
not friends — ” 

Max 1” she broke out with a sharp cry, Max, have they 
accused you ?” 

Not yet, Leah.” 

Thank Heaven ! Now tell me everything. Max — every- 
thing,” 


SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. 


435 


An hour later Leah Paget came into her mother’s presence 
with pale cheeks but glowing eyes. 

“ Mother/’ she said, Max has told me much. I want you 
to tell me more. Especially, tell me about this English detect- 
ive.” 

‘^Didn’t Max tell you about him, dear?” 

A little. But I do not understand how he came to be 
here so opportunely.” 

My child, Max Talfourd caused him to be sent for. He 
came to help us find you.” 

Leah drew a hassock close to her mother’s side and seated 
herself upon it. 

“ Now,” she said, give me the history of that search for 
me. Tell me all, everything.” 

That evening Ferrars received, through the Chief of Po- 
lice, to whose care it had been sent, a brief little note. It 
said : 

Sir : — If you will kiudly grant me an interview, I will come to 
you at any time and in any way you may think best. My business is 
important. 

Leah Paget. 

The detective read it and smiled. 

I thought it would happen so,” he said to himself. At 
last, things begin to run smoothly.” 

He recognized in the sending of the note, under cover 
through Captain Connors, the hand of Mrs. Paget, and he 
seated himself at once to reply. 

He thanked Miss Paget for her promptness and her confi- 
dence. He would not ask her to come to him on this occasion, 
but would wait upon her in her own home that evening. Ne- 
cessarily, he must come in as unobtrusive a manner as possible. 


436 


A LOST WITNESS. 


and, having said this much, he would rely upon her to receive 
liim as seemed best. 

Considering this note, his manner of going seemed a little 
strange. 

Early in the evening, while it was yet daylight in fact, the 
handsome open carriage of Mr. Talfourd might have been seen 
rolling through the Park, down Fifth Avenue, and across 
Union Square. It had two occupants, Talfourd senior and Sir 
Felix Wyntoun. 

A little later, this same conveyance stood before Sara Vol- 
ney’s door, while the two gentlemen paid their respects to that 
lovely lady. 

As Talfourd senior and Sir Felix were taking their leave, a 
hansom drove up, stopped just behind the open carriage, and 
deposited a third caller, none other than Max Talfourd, who 
entered as the others came out, exchanged a jesting word with 
them, and said ; 

Come back, won’t you ? I’ve only dropped in to ask after 
Sara’s health. Come in, and then take me to town with you. 
I dare say that Sara won’t let me stay long — it’s an opera night, 
I believe.” 

But I’m not going. Max,” broke in Mrs. Volney, “and I 
shall consider you a godsend if you will tarry a while. Of 
course — ” She turned to the others with a charming smile, 
but the elder Talfourd lifted a warning finger. 

“You are going to tell a polite little fib, Sara,” he said. 
“ You’ve seen enough of us for once, and we really must go. 
Keep Max, by all means. He couldn’t be in better hands. As 
for us, I’m going to present Sir Felix to Mrs. Paget. You 
youthful dames have monopolized him too much. He must see 
what a perfect creature the American matron is.” 


SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. 


437 


When he has seen Mrs. Paget/’ flashed Mrs. Volney, he 
will have seen the matron par excellenaeP And she laughed 
up into the face of Sir Felix, and slipped a white hand under 
the arm of Max Talfourd. Come in, Max. You and I 
know who is even lovelier than the matron, do we not?” 

She was looking especially brilliant, with more fire and color 
than usual in her face ; and Sir Felix said, as the two went down 
the stone walk to the waiting carriage, 

Mrs. Volney has the beauty of all the sirens. However, 
has Max known her so long only to lose his heart to somebody 
else ?” 

When Max knew her first, she was the wife of my cousin, 
ray dear fellow,” the father of Max replied. And perhaps 
the sirens even might not have shone so fair alongside of two 
hundred pounds of husband each.” 

Possibly not,” replied Sir Felix, as he seated himself be- 
side his host, except perchance in France.” 

As Mr. Talfonrd’s carriage rolled nway, the hansom which 
had brought Max followed close behind, and soon the first ve- 
hicle turned into a quiet street, the second turning also. Then, 
as if by one volition, both stopped. 

Nothing was said, but Sir Felix sprang from the Talfourd 
carriage, and at the same moment, Ferrars stepped from the 
hansom. It was simply an exchange. When the carriage 
moved on, it was Ferrars that sat beside Mr. Talfourd, who or- 
dered his coachman to drive to the Pagets, and it was Sir Fe- 
lix who drove townward in the hansom. 


438 


A LOST WITNESS. 


CHAPTER LX. 

AN ALLIANCE. 

And SO it liappened, a little to her own surprise, that Leah 
Paget, on the evening of a day that had changed the current of 
her sombre thoughts, sat awaiting, with mixed emotions, the 
coming of the EnglLsh detective. 

Her thoughts were strangely confused for one usually so clear- 
headed. She had heai’d the story of the Dresden Flats tragedy, 
first from Max and then from her mother. Yet, somehow, 
only a few facts seemed to stand out from the mass with any- 
thing like distinctness, and even these did not at all concern 
Hortense Novalis and her fate. Indeed, if she had analyzed 
her feelings, she would have found among the incoherent med- 
ley something strangely like resentment against the dead actress. 
But now, as she sat waiting the summons to the drawing-room, 
she was not thinking of Hortense Xovalis, but of Max Talfourd. 
And not of him as connected with the affair of ihe Dresden 
Flats, but of Max grieving for her absence, of Max holding 
fast his faith in her against all doubt and suspicion, of Max 
sending afar for help to find her. Yes, Max had done all this. 
And now, for his reward, she must send him from her ; must 
close her lips and her heart and her life against him. Xo, not 
her heart ; never that ! That she had given, that she would not 
recall. And her life? Well, what was it? What was the 
life of any woman, when she dares not look back for fear of 
heart-break, and when there is nothing but a long series of blank. 


AN ALLIANCE. 


439 


hopeless days ahead ? And they would not even let her have 
peace ! Because she forced herself to be calm, they thouglit 
she was very strong, and in one way or another, they would 
always be besieging her. They might spare her, perhaps, if 
she implored them ; if she told them they were simply killing 
her. But she never would ask them. And as for the killing, 
if only they would not do it so slowly ! Why, that was the 
one thing in the gift of the future that she could anticipate 
hopefully ! And now this detective was coming, and because 
she had wished to see him. Why ? she wondered. He might 
have much that was important to tell her,^^ her mother had 
said. But it was not that. No ; she knew well enough why 
she had consented to see this Englishman. It was because 
that Max had sent for him, f)r her sake. Well, she would see 
him, but it could do no good. None. It was for Max’ sake; 
that was all. 

Thinking thus, the summons came, and Leah forced her- 
self to look calm, and a trifle haughty, and went down to the 
little drawing-room where she was to receive him. 

She had chosen to array herself in a gown of soft white stuff, 
severely simple and wonderfully becoming. And as she stood 
before him, pallid, clear-eyed, and stately, Francis Ferrars 
assured himself that it was worth while to have come across 
the ocean to know*, and to serve, and to win, perhaps, the friend- 
ship of such a one as Leah Paget. 

And she — a single glance assured her that this was not the 
detective” of her imagination, — the man of gimlet eyes and 
cat-like tread ; the self-made being who^e every movement 
told of suspicion, shrewdness, and social inferiority. 

Instead, she saw a fine-mannered, unaffected man, wdth a 
firm chin, a sensitive mouth, and eyes that were full of respect- 


440 


A LOST WITNESS. 


ful sympathy. It was not a face to doubt, much less to fear. 

And Leah Paget soon found herself, the first moments of 
introductory formality being well over, seated near her vis- 
itor, and quite at ease. 

She had taken the initiative, in her own sweet way, by speak- 
ing of her mother and of the story she had heard from Mrs. 
PagePs lips. And Ferrars had added a few words, in the 
manner of one who is quite willing to be frank, and then had 
waited as if for her to speak, which she did after a little hes- 
itation. 

My mother has told me their was a special reason why I 
should see you, sir,’’ she said, “quite outside of my own af- 
fairs.” 

“Yes, Miss Paget, and I am coming to the point at once, 
first asking you to keep in mind the fact that I came to Amer- 
ica upon your account, and that my connection with this case 
of murder has been the result of accident and proximity. I 
have not sought this interview, however, solely upon your 
own account. Miss Paget, your friend Max Talfoiird is 
threatened with serious trouble.” 

“ Max — ” She started and paled. In following the history 
of the murder, as it was told by her mother and by Max, she 
had noted the coincidence of dates, and it came back upon 
her with a new meaning now. It was on the (‘ve of her dis- 
appearance that Max and La Belle Fabrice had encountered 
each other at the rooms of the dead actress. It was on the 
day of the murder that she, Leah, had returned. The dates 
had been dwelt upon, first by Max, then by her mother, and 
she, in her ])reoccnpation, had simply wondered why they 
should dwell so upon details. What was all this about Hor- 
tense Novalis to her, except for that letter and photograph ? 


AN ALLIANCE. 


441 


She had thought of nothing else. Her letter and the picture 
of Max — they had been found in the rooms of the dead ac- 
tress by this detective. Therefore, of course, he could tell her 
how they came there. Max TalfotmPs picture, meant for her, 
and in the possession of that dead woman ! It was for this 
she had wished to see him. She wanted him to say what she 
would not, could not, ask of Max. She had sent for him that 
he might exonerate the man she loved. Yes; and to ques- 
tion him a little, perhaps, about this mysterious La Belle Fa- 
brice. 

She passed her hand across her forehead. It flashed upon 
her now how slow of comprehension her own trouble and self- 
absorption had made her. 

What is it/’ she faltered, this trouble you speak of — 

He drew his chair nearer her own. 

Max Talfourd has told me,” he began, gravely, that you 
did not receive a certain letter and picture sent to you by him- 
self, a short time ago.” 

She shook her head. 

I can understand,” he went on, that at that time you 
may have been preoccupied, perhaps, even to the point of 
mislaying the picture or the letter unopened. Try to remem- 
ber, please, — a letter upon smooth grey paper ; a picture upon 
a large square card, in an envelope of its exact size and 
shape.” 

No,” she said, flushing hotly, I never received either let- 
ter or picture.” 

Ferrars took from his pocket the letter and picture and ash- 
begrimed envelope. 

Look at this,” he said, and he put the picture into her 
hand. 


442 


A LOST WITNESS. 


It is he she exclaimed, but it never reached me.” 

Nor this ?” He gave her the envelope. 

My name !” She scanned it with eager eyes. ‘‘ I never 
received it. Why, don’t you see, it bears no postmark ?” 

He flashed upon her a quick glance of admiration. 

Yes. Now look at the letter.” 

She took it, read a few lines, and then let it fall ; her hands 
were trembling violently, her face was aflame. There’s blood 
upon it,” she whispered. 

The detective picked up the letter and proffered it again, 
but she waved it back. Her hand had grown suddenly firm, 
her eyes brightened, her whole face was vivid with some strong 
emotion. 

It is not mine,” she said. I never saw it before.” 

And yet Mr. Talfourd tells me that the letter — unluckily 
there is no name used except his signature — was addressed and 
sent to you together with the picture.” 

‘^Was it you who found it?” she asked, faintly, knowing 
what his answer would be. 

I found it, yes, in the rooms of Hortense Novalis, after 
the murder.” 

For a moment the room was as still as a sepulchre ; then. 

What does it mean ?” she said, in a hoarse whisper. 

It means, I believe, that Max Talfourd has an enemy, 
or that you have one, and that this enemy is striking at one 
through the other.” 

She got up and stood erect before him. You are 
a detective,” she said, and do you say that, and believe 
it ?” 

I say it and I believe it, Miss Paget. The secret connected 
with your disappearance, the secret you are guarding so care* 


AN ALLIANCE. 


443 


fully, and the mystery surrounding this double murder, are in 
some way connected. Stop ! Do not speak yet. Let me ask 
a question. Is there any reason, known to you, why this 
should not be the case ?” 

She shook her head. 

Are you still determined to hold your peace, to keep secret 
the history of the last few weeks 

I must,’’ she said, sadly. 

Very good. Is there any reason, then, why this secret, if 
it were found out without your aid, should not be told ? Sup- 
posing, for instance, it became known to me, would you wish 
it suppressed ?” 

‘‘ No !” she said, clasping her hands and raising them aloft. 

If you, if any one, could tell the story, all of it, and explain 
it clearly, I would bless him upon my knees. I would give 
him my life, if need be !” 

“ And if, to do that, and also to vindicate Max Talfourd, I 
should need your aid, such aid as you could give without any 
betrayal of trust, might I count upon it ?” 

Yes, in any way, and to the limit of my poor 
strength.” 

^‘I may have to ask you to do a very distasteful thing, and 
I shall exact, perhaps, blind obedience. Have you the courage, 
the strength of will, the self-control, to play, if need be, a 
difficult part ?” 

If need be, yes.” 

Wait. I warn you that the thing I have in mind is not 
easy. The culmination may be terrible. I shall not ask for 
your aid except as a last resort, and if you are not strong and 
a good actress, you might fail me, and then — ” 

She interrupted him by a gesture. 


444 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Tell me,” she said, is it to vindicate Max Talfourd that 
you propose this?” 

“ That — yes.” 

And what else?” 

Possibly to vindicate you.^ 

A strange look came into her eyes — a look almost of ter- 
ror. 

You don’t know what you would do,” she said, trem- 
ulously. 

Ferrars was silent. 

But I will not fail you,” she said, suddenly regaining her 
self-command. ^^All women are actresses upon occasion. 
They would appear pitiable creatures, sometimes, if they were 
not. If you will trust me, Mr. Ferrars — ” She held out 
her hand, and he took it and lifted it to his lips. 


CHAPTER LXI. 

NICKERSON ON THE TRAIL. 

Well, what is it now ?” 

It was Captain Connors who asked the question, having 
just stej)ped from his cab at the door of Ferrars’ “ head- 
quarters,” whither he had driven in response to a note from 
the detective. 

Abner Paget must be brought to his senses, and I think 
you are the man to do it.” 

Umph ! What has happened ?” , 


NICKERSON ON THE TRAIL. 


445 


Nothing of importance. But I have seen Mhs Leah Pa- 
get, and now, in order to carry out our plan, her father must be 
brought into sympathy with his daughters wrongs. The man 
has a heart, I suppose. CanT you put the matter before him 
somehow, so as to waken him to a sense of the real situation ?” 

The Captain considered a moment. Seriously, yes,’^ he 
said, and it ought to be done. If you give me carte hlanchey 
say, in any argument I may think best, I’ll try it.” 

Do it ; and today or this evening, if possible. At any 
rate, you must say enough to cause him to remain neutral, if 
you cannot do better.” 

I think we can do better. Is that all ? By the bye, I’m 
having those fellows watched.” 

Those fellows ?” 

Yes ; the new detectives who are shadowing Quinlan. 
They are not so slow, either, let me tell you. They’ve sent 
to Scotland Yards for information about Hortense Novalis, 
and to Paris for the same, and for a history of Quinlan’s career 
there. Somebody’s coming — I’ll tell you more another time.” 
It was the man Michael who broke in upon their interview. 
He bowed to his new commander, and, at sight of his Chief, 
bowed again, his mouth widening into a grin. 

Captain Connors consulted his watch and took up his hat. 
Michael is brimfull of information,” he said, good-naturedly, 
and it’s time to go upon my own little affairs.” He shot a 
meaning glance toward Ferrars. If all goes well, I will let 
you know by messenger ; if otherwise, personally.” Ferrars 
followed him to the door, and said a word or two in a low tone. 
Then, as the door closed, he turned to Michael with a brisk 
movement. 

Well, Michael ?” he said. 


446 


A LOST WITNESS. 

Yes, sir/’ said Michael, rubbing his hands. Well, sir, 
I’ve got her ; I had to do it.” 

You have got her ? Where, Michael ?” 

Down stairs, sir. In a carriage at the corner. I didn’t 
think it would do to bring her up till I saw you.” 

Certainly not. But the woman — who is with her ?” 

Oh, I brought one of the boys along with me in the cab, 
sir. Yer see, she came out of the new place without her feath- 
ers and war paint, and she had a little gripsack in her hand. 
She went straight to a ticket-office and I saw her buy a ticket, 
but I couldn’t get near enough to hear where it was for. But 
I heard the agent tell her that the train left in about an 
hour, so I just nabbed her. I expected she would make a big 
stand-out, but she didn’t. One of the boys happened to be 
handy, and so I brought him.” 

Since Michael had risen from the ranks to special duty, he 
had condescendingly dubbed all the rank and file of uniformed 
police the Boys,” and it was a ^ boy’ of double Michael’s age 
and avoirdupois who escorted Michael’s captive up stairs and 
into the presence of Ferrars. Then Michael was dispatched 
upon some errand, which, to judge from his hasty departure in 
the cab, was of importance and against time. 

Tell him to come prepared for a two or three days’ ab- 
sence,” Ferrars had said, as Michael paused at the door for 
this last word. And there’s not a moment to lose. Don’t 
bring him up; come yourself, and look after your prisoner 
while I go down to him.” As Michael went clattering down 
the stairs, Ferrars consulted his watch. About an hour,” 
he said to himself ; and a quarter of that time already 
gone.” 

When the boy” and Michael’s prisoner were in the room. 


NICKERSON ON THE TRAIL. 


447 


Ferrars closed the door, and said, without so much as a glance 
at the woman, 

I want to send a word to the Chief of Police.” He 
scrawled a few words upon a card and put it into the hands of 
the officer, accompanying it with a significant glance which 
the other was quick to comprehend. Take this,” he said, 
and the policeman bowed and went out. At the foot of the 
stairs he stopped and read the few words upon the card. 

They were Wait at the entrance for further orders.” 

I thought so,” muttered he. Didn’t I just see the Chief 
come out of this very door ? Something’s up.” In which 
sage conclusion he was more than sustained by the after-events 
of his vigil. 

After closing and locking the door, Ferrars raised a curtain 
just beside the woman. The long twilight was almost gone, 
and he wanted all its remaining brightness by which to scan 
her face. He drew up a chair and seated himself before her. 
She had dropped into one, as if she were exhausted, upon her 
first entrance. 

It was the same woman whom we have seen upon the street, 
and in the character of unwelcome guest, and possible black- 
mailer, in the rooms of La Belle Fabrice. She was staring at 
Ferrars with a direct, unabashed, and somewliat indignant gaze. 

I’d be very much obliged,” she said, at last, if you’d tell- 
me what all this means ?” 

Ferrars started slightly, and began once more to scrutinize 
the woman before him, feature by feature, with a puzzled look 
at first and then with a smile, as if at some suddenly occurring 
resemblance. But he suppressed the smile and the thought 
that came with it, and only said : 

I’ll explain in due time, Madam. But first, I’ll trouble 


448 


A LOST WITNESS. 


you to let me look at the railway ticket which you have in 
your pocket.’’ 

She started but did not comply. 

What do you want with that ?” she asked, sharply. 

I would advise you not to parley now, Madam,” he said, 
sternly. How I shall treat you depends much upon your- 
self. Time is of value. If you want me to turn you over to 
the Chief of Police, try to put even straws in my way. I’m 
an officer, and I know you of old. The ticket, please.” 

The occasions upon which Francis Ferrars spoke in this 
tone, to man or woman, were very rare, and it showed that if 
need be tliis discreet and naturally delicate and kindly man 
could be merciless. And it had its effect. The woman pro- 
duced the ticket and sullenly placed it in his hand. 

Thanks.” Instantly his old suavity returned. Ah, yes ; 
just as I thought. You were going to South Brandon. I’ll 
keep this ticket, if you please ; reimbursing you for it, of 
course. And I’ll make it for your interest to answer some 
questions promptly and truthfully.” He read her face with a 
quick glance ; it was still rebellious. “ Of course, I cannot 
insist beyond a certain point. You do not possess anything in 
the way of information that cannot be got from others. You 
can put me to a little trouble, if it suits you. I can put you 
. in prison, if it suits me.” 

“ What for?” The woman paled a little, but still looked 
rebellious. 

Never mind what for. Choose : Will you go back to the 
snug little den which you have fitted up in such rare taste, 
with the money you got from the murdered woman, Hor- 
tense Novalis, or will you go to jail under — well, a serious 
charge ?” 


NICKEESON ON THE TRAIL. 


449 


Even this did not seem to have frightened the woman, and 
she was still resentful. But she asked, like one who yields re- 
luctantly to superior force, 

What do you want me to say ?” 

The truth. First, about the railway ticket. Why were 
you going to South Brandon?’^ 

I wanted to look for somebody.” 

Is that all ?” he asked, sharply. Are you sure it is not 
to meet somebody ?” 

'•Yes, I am sure.” 

Do you know where La Belle Fabrice is?” he asked, sud- 
denly. 

The red flush that overspread her face told him that he had 
hit the mark. 

No, I don’t,” she said, shortly. 

You knovv there has been a reward offered for her, or for 
information concerning her ?” 

Yes,” doggedly. 

What reason have you for thinking that La Belle Fabrice 
might be found there ?” He held up the ticket. 

“ She lived there once,” said the woman, sullenly — ^^a long 
time ago.” 

“ Oh !” he exclaimed. One moment.” He sprang to the 
door and blew a sharp whistle. Then back again to catch a 
hat off* a rack and lock a desk. By the time this was done, 
the officer whom he had bidden wait below was at the door, 
where Ferrars met him. “ My good man,” he said, I leave 
this woman in your charge. I shall return in half an hour, 
I think. Lock the door and admit no one.” 

The man nodded. He did not know Ferrars, but he had 
been assured by Michael, whom he did know, that it was ‘^all 

15 


450 


A LOST WITNESS. 


right.^^ Moreover, he had seen the Chief himself emerging 
from this very house. 

I’ll see to it, sir,’’ he said, and straightway took pos- 
session. 

Ferrars hastened out and was soon upon the street, where 
he waited, watch in hand, until, after two or three minutes, 
a cab came tearing around the nearest corner, and Michael’s 
head was visible before it came to a halt beside the pave- 
ment. A glance showed, too, that Nickerson, the man of 
theories, and now enrolled in the service of Ferrars, was seated 
within. 

Ah, here you are ! Jump out, Michael, and wait for me 
here.” 

In another breath, Michael was standing alone upon the 
pavement, and the cab was rattling away at its liveliest gate in 
the direction of the Grand Central Depot. Under cover of 
the noise and confusion, Ferrars gave his instructions to 
Nickerson. 

Are you ready for a chase ?” he began. 

Quite,” said Nickerson, who liked this lively sort of 
work. 

Good. There’s a possibility that the runaway Comedienne, 
La Belle Fabrice, may be in South Brandon. You are to go 
there by first train, provided we are in time.” 

We shall be in time.” 

Inform yourself as soon and as quietly as possible if the 
lady is there, or any of her friends. Don’t make yourself 
known, but telegraph me, and look for a letter of instructions 
by first mail. Name — ” 

John Nickerson will do.” 

''Very well.” Ferrars produced the ticket taken from 


AN OLi) ACQUAINTANCE. 451 

MicliaePs captive, and put it into his hand. You are going 
upon a chance, but I am inclined to think you’ll find the lady. 
It’s a delicate matter, and whether she is there or not, wait for 
your letter of instructions.” 

Nickerson pocketed the ticket and some money, pressed into 
his willing grasp in a pleasantly ofP-hand fashion.. 

As I’m to be gone so long,” he said, I suppose you will 
fill my place ?” 

I intend to take your place myself.” 

I’m glad of that, for a number of reasons,” said Nickerson. 

And now I’ll make my report. Polly Cousin came there 
nearly an hour ago. Up to the moment I left, he was still 
there.” 

Very good. In your absence, Mr. Cousin will receive my 
personal attention.” 

By Jove !” ejaculated Nickerson, I begin to think he’s 
worth it. There’s my train. Good-bye.” 


CHAPTER LXII. 

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 

When Francis Ferrars re-appeared, after seeing Nickerson 
safely en route for South Brandon, he found Michael on guard 
without, and the boy” within, and he lost no time in dis- 
missing them, each upon a special mission. 

When he again seated himself near the impatiently-frown- 
ing woman, his face had relaxed something of its grim ness. 


452 


A LOST WITNESS. 


It’s along time since we have met, Madam,” he said, just 
the shadow of a smile lurking about the corners of his mouth. 

But I have a tolerable memory for faces, and for voices. 
As for names — well, ladies change theirs so often, you know ; 
and you, I believe, called yourself at one time Mrs. Harris, did 
you not ?” 

She flushed angrily, but it was clear enougfi that she knew 
whereof he was speaking. 

I think it was Mrs. Harris,” he went on, and I think, 
at that time, yon were more or less interested in the dramatic 
stage. It was in Chicago, I believe ; and it mn>t have been 
four, five, yes, nearly six years ago. Oh, I see you have not 
forgotten.” 

The woman had risen and was looking about as if for a way 
of escape. Ferrars merely smiled. 

Calm yourself. Madam,” he said. You have nothing to 
fear from me, unless you prove to be a greater sinner than I 
now believe you to be. You possess information that I want, 
and that I mean to have: I am not sni-e but you may be use- 
ful to me as well. Do you know who I am ?” 

The woman sat down again, the sullen look not yet gone 
from her face. I know you are one of those detectives,” she 
said. There were three*of them and — ” She stopped and 
studied his face a moment. Yes,” she said, the newspapers 
were full of them one was big, and one was handsome, and 
one — yes, of course, you must be the Englishman.” 

Right,” he said. Your memory serves you. Jocelyn 
was big, and Bathurst was handsome, and I’m neither one nor 


* See “ Sliadowed by Three” by same Author. Francis Ferrars was 
a prominent character in that remarkable book. 



‘Stop! If you think I know anything about that murder, 
you ARE MISTAKEN,” Page 454. 


453 




454 


A LOST WITNESS. 


the othei ; nevertheless, Fra the Englishman. Are you going 
to answer my questions and trust to my generosity 

“ Oh, of course,^^ she said, and even in that moment of grudg- 
ing submission there was a greedy look in her eyes, as the 
word generosity’’ passed his lips. I’ve got to live, and if 
you go and mix me up in some new scandal, I’ll be all broken 
up again, and my business spoiled, just as I’ve got a start.” 

Don’t let that make you too anxious,” he said. ^^I see 
you’ve taken a fancy to fortune-telling, and I won’t interfere, 
if you are not too severe upon the seekers after knowledge of 
the future. I iiave had an eye on you for some time.” He 
noted her start and the sudden look of fear that crossed her 
face. And I know that you have been, in some way, con- 
nected with Hortense Novalis — ” 

Stop !” slie cried out, sliarply. If you think I know any- 
thing about that murder, you are mistaken ! I don’t.” And 
here, for the first time, she looked liim full in the face. I’m 
not afraid of that !” she cried again, fiercely. Hortense Nov- 
alis was the best friend I had in the world ! I’d go as far as 
the next one to find out who killed her.” 

As far as South Brandon, I suppose you mean ?” 

Again she looked at him squarely. You’re mistaken again,” 
she said, sullenly. I don’t believe that girl killed Hortense.” 

Meaning Fabrice ?” 

Yes, meaning Fabrice. There was another one, and if I 
had my liberty and a little money, I believe I could find 
her.” 

Now,” said Ferrars, we are coming to the point. When 
you have convinced me that you are sincere, you shall be paid 
well, and I will promise you protection. But I shall have 
YOU watched, and if you attempt to play me false, it will not 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 


455 


be pleasant for you. You know what I mean. I doiiH fancy 
that you are implicated in this double murder, but you possess 
knowledge that may help us clear up the mystery. Now, 
then, how is it to be? Are we allies, or enemies?’^ 

Oh, you know well enough that I’ve got to submit,” she 
said. I’m not going to put my head in a noose.” 

You are a very wise woman,” said Ferrars. So let’s 
begin, for time is passing. Oh, by the way, allow me to refund 
the money for that ticket, and you are going to want cash to 
enable you to make your debut as a prophetess in a proper 
manner, I suppose. Permit me to make you a small loan.” 

The sullen look faded from the face of the woman, as she 
clutched the small loan,” and when she had it deep into her 
pocket, her lips relaxed, and Ferrars knew that he had no need 
to fear, so long as he had money to buy and she a secret to sell. 

When Francis Ferrars laid his head upon his pillow that 
night, or rather the next morning, for the small hours were 
striking, he felt, and justly, that a good day’s work had been 
scored. 

Nickerson was well on his way. The letter of instructions, 
too, so full of detail as not to admit of any possible error 
through lack of clearness, and containing matter which \vould 
be apt to startle even so level-headed a man as Nickerson, was 
already written and ready for the earliest mail. 

Captain Connors, who had taken upon himself the duty of see- 
iuir Abner Pasret, and reducing him to a more reasonable frame 
of mind, had reported favorably. Here again, Ferrars having 
seen Paget pere upon one occasion, had been wise in choosing 
his messenger. Captain Connors, wdien once thoroughly aroused 
was, like most easy-going men, capable of being terribly direct 


456 


A LOST WITNESS. 


and in earnest, and he had found the occasion in this visit to 
Abner Paget. 

I had to use knock-down arguments,” the Captain said 
later, when he was rehearsing the scene for the benefit of the 
detective. But luckily 1 was well supplied with arguments 
of just that kind.” 

The simple truth was this : Knowing his man, the Captain 
had taken a ])osition squarely before the obdurate old merchant, 
and said, bluntly ; 

Mr. Paget, do you want the name of your daughter con- 
nected with that of Hortense, the woman who was murdered 
night before last at the Dresden Flats ?” Of course there was 
an angry outburst, and then the Ciiief had simply gripped the 
arm of the enraged and haughty man and forced him to hear 
some plain truths, tersely stated. 

If you will take the trouble to read the reports of the 
CoronePs inquest, that of yesterday in particular, you will see 
an account of a singular sort of meeting on a certain evening, 
a little more than a month ago, and you will see in cold 
print the names of Fred Quinlan, Max Talfourd, and a lady 
who is called Fabrice.” 

Of course he had already read this account, and the Chief 
had guessed as much. 

^^That cursed fellow, Talfourd — ” Mr. Paget had broken 
out. But the Chief promptly checked him. 

Don’t go any further in the wrong direction, man,” he 
said. There’s one thing that you won’t see in the papers, 
because we have thought it wise and kind to suppress it, and 
that is this : When the first search of the rooms was made, 
there was found an envelope bearing upon it the name of your 
daughter. Miss Paget.” 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 


457 


“ Bosli !” cried the old man, fiercely, My daughter’s 
name ! I don’t believe it !” 

‘^Unfortunately for your scepticism, I was the one to find 
the thing.” 

“ You !” Abner Paget weakly sat down in the nearest 
chair. 

“Yes, I; and that is notall. On the night of this meeting 
at the rooms of the murdered woman, which the Coroner is 
making so much of, your daughter disappeared.” 

“ Good God !” 

“ And, on the morning after the murder of Hortense Nov- 
alis, your daughter came back.” 

Abner Paget lifted both hands to his head like a man dazed. 

“ My God !” he groaned, “ are you going to tell me that my 
girl killed that — that creature ?” 

“ I ? No. It has been left for you, Abner Paget, to couple 
your daughter’s name with that deed — you, her father. What 
a father ! I don’t wonder that she left your house, but why 
did she come back? Ah ! I forget ; she has a mother. Man, 
you have suspected her, accused her, no doubt. Did it ever 
enter you heart, for just one moment, that she may have been 
a victim?” 

“ Oh, my God ! Oh, my daughter ! Leah !” 

It was the cry of a strong man broken upon the rock of his 
own pride. The oak which never yet had bent, was broken. 
Henceforth, he was as wax in the hands of the Chief of Police, 
and meek and abject in his obedience to the English detective, 
of whom he heard then for the first time. 

In the grey of morning, while Mrs, Paget lay tossing rest- 
lessly, unable to sleep for thinking of all that she had listened 
to that night, a tall gaunt figure came to her bedside, and bent 


458 


A LOST WITNESS. 


over her, and spoke softly, for Leah was sleeping, or seeming 
to sleep, beside her. 

Miranda, wife.” 

A shaded lamp was burning low near the center of the room, 
and by its light she could seethe tall figure and care-worn face. 
She sat erect at once, lifting her face and peering anxiously 
into his. Then, also mindful of Leah, she whispered : 

Abner, what is it?” At the same time her hands met his 
i nstinctively. Are you sick, Abner ?” It was the quick nerv- 
ous grasp of his hands that first indicated to her the change in 
him. What is it?” she whispered, tremulously, and she drew 
him down to a seat upon the side of the bed. Abner, tell 
me ?” 

Wife, I have been generously dealt with.” He bent his 
head and shaded his face with one hand as he spoke. I have 
been arraigned before God while I am still living to make re- 
paration. Wife, our daughter, our Leah — I have wronged her 
and wronged you. I don’t know how to say it, but I want 
you to try and forgive.” 

Abner, hush ; we will waken Leah. Wait till I get up.” 

No,” he said, putting a hand upon her shoulder. Don’t. 
I cannot talk now. Only, wife, will you send Leah to me ? 
Tell her that I beg of her to come to me in the morning, 
early,” Again the hand gently pressed her shoulder, and then, 
like an awkward bashful boy, he stooped his grey head and 
kissed his wife’s lips. In a moment more he was gone, and 
the door of the room closed softly behind him 

A great sob shook the frame of the wife, whose cheek burned 
and flushed like a girl’s, under the unaccustomed caress of the 
man who, for twenty years and more, had been her lord rather 
than her lover. There was a sudden movement, and Leah 


WHAT SOCIETY SAID. 


469 


sprang erect, and then flung herself down again, crying, 
Mother ! I listened. I listened willfully. Mother, I 
am going to him. May I go now 
Yes, iny child ; yes.^^ 

Instantly the girl was out of the bed, and flinging a loose 
dressing-robe about her, adjusting it while she ran, she was 
out in the hall, hastening with flying feet, and calling softly 
as she ran, Father, father.” 

And so peace was restored in the household of the Pagets, 
— peace and mutual confidence, but not happiness, not rest, for 
Leah’s secret remained untold. The shadow still hung about 
them. 


CHAPTER LXIII. 

WHAT society” SAID. - 

For several days after the departure of Nickerson, Ferrars 
went and came, always busy, always self-contained, doing 
nobody knew precisely what. On the morning of the fifth 
day he received a telegram. After reading and replying to 
this, he wrote three or four brief notes, gave to his secretary 
some concise instructions, packed a small bag, and drove away 
in a hansom. 

For five days New York, and the friends who were looking 
to him for all hope and comfort, knew him no more. 

Then, as suddenly and as quietly as he went, he came 
back. 


460 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Perhaps he had exhtiusted the field of his first labors, or, 
possibly, he had fallen upon a new scent. Be this as it may, 
he was seldom to be found now at the headquarters,” where, 
however, the methodical secretary might now be met at all 
times. And the office of Captain Connors knew him no more 
for many days. 

In fact, as time went by, the people who had been most ab- 
sorbed in the affairs of our story, seemed to have fallen into a 
lethargy. 

Concerning the murders, there were no new rumors nor dis- 
coveries, nothing to encourage the Coroner to re -assemble his 
‘‘just men and true,” until he began to fear that the end had 
been reached, and that the fate of Hortense Novalis and her 
maid might as well be counted among the mysteries that 
would defy time, and might, therefore, be “ passed upon and 
so lost in oblivion.” 

But just as this decision had taken firm root in the astute 
mind of the Coroner, something happened. 

It was nothing more than a visit from one of the members 
of the “ Star Detective Agency,” who begged the Coroner to 
stay this action yet a little longer ; to wait, in fact, the result 
of certain efforts now being made, which promised to throw a 
new and strong light upon the Dresden Flats mystery. He 
could explain nothing, but he promised much, if time were 
granted him. 

The speech of the officer was impressive, and the Coroner 
was impressed. As a result, the examination, or its conclusion, 
was again indefinitely postponed. 

In the meantime, the body of Hortense Novalis, embalmed 
by skilled hands, and arrayed in the festal robes in which she 
died, still lay in the vault, where it would remain, subject to 


WHAT SOCIETY SAID. 


461 


the orders of the Coroner. The maid, Virginie, was beside 
her mistress. 

And so the world moved on. Frederick Quinlan, always 
preserving a splendid unconsciousness of his double surveil- 
lance, went and came much as usual, save that all invitations to 
parties, receptions, and the like — and there were many — were 
“ declined with thanks’^ and the proper regrets. 

Of Max Talfourd, very much the same might be said, but 
for this exception : His father’s house held two distinguished 
guests now — guests who had been induced to give up their 
down-town quarters by Talfourd pere, who had volunteered to 
put them through the ‘ city paces’ in excellent style, upon con- 
dition that they took up their abode with him. 

The Evening CalV^ was among the first to chronicle the 
fact that Lord Louis Barham and Sir Felix Wyntoun were 
the guests of Mr: Talfourd ; and it added that the Talfourd 
home was a delightful one, and the Talfourd chef simply 
perfect. 

Only think,” said Quinlan’s friend and chaperone^ old 
Mrs. Brevoort Davies, to Miss Ida Gadaway, ^^tlie Talfourds 
have not opened tlieir house in an age ! And now they don’t 
intend anything great. I have it from Mrs. Talfourd herself. 
The young men knew Max abroad, she said — fancy calling the 
titled personages just ‘ young men !’ — and they were pleased 
with the opportunity to live for a little while in an American 
home.” 

Yes,” sighed Miss G. “ I suppose they’ll be quite ab- 
sorbed by their quiet dinners enfamUkj — the Pagets and Sara 
Volney. Do you think Leah Paget will go, after all the talk ; 
and wasn’t that a queer affair, though ?” 

‘‘ Hush ! Of course she will. Leah Paget is one of those 


462 


A LOST WITNESS. 


girls who can do anything they like. Let me wliisper a word, 
my dear — follow my example and do not repeat that question. 
Leah Paget^s little sensation will be politely ignored by so- 
ciety, because she is Leah Paget, and because the Talfourds 
have not dropped her.” / 

She does not go out, I hear?” I 

Only to quiet affairs and the concerts. I wonder if there 
is anything in the report that she is staying with Mrs. Yol- 
ney ?” 

“ I dare say ; that would be clever ; Sara is still wearing 
black, you know. Of course, with her, Leah has a good excuse 
for not going out much.” 

Hush !” said the chaperone. There is Papa Tal- 
fourd.” 

Where?” asked Miss Gadaway, leaning out of her opera 

box. 

In the box next the Carrolls. Ah ! and theyTe both 
wiih liim — the two Englishmen. How handsome Sir Felix 
AVyntoun is !” 

‘‘ Yes, and how unlike the other.” 

‘ * Lord Barham ?” 

Do you suppose it is Lord Barham ?” 

I mean to know. Ah, the curtain.” 

Mrs. Brevoort Davies settled back in a position of luxurious 
interest, but before turning her eyes upon the stage she had 
caught the gaze of Mr. Talfourd, and made him a pretty and 
almost imperceptible signal. 

Not imperceptible to Mr. Talfourd, however. He saw it 
and made his comment, tapping the newest .comeiTightly upon 
the shoulder. 

We have been signalled already, gentlemen,” he said, and 


WHAT society’^ SAID. 


463 


by Mrs. Brevoort Davies. Our fate is sealed. Will you go 
with me to her box, Lord Barliam, and be presented 

Lord Barham elevated his eyebrows and applied his eye- 
glass, peering about near-siglitedly. 

“ Pawn my word V he drawled, no, I think I won’t ; not 
j tst yet, you know-er—weally.” 

But it will come to that.” 

Aw, I suppose. I say, though, couldn’t you go over, and 
it I must, you know, why Wyntoun can chaperone me to you- 
er — and the lady.” 

The ladies,” corrected Mr. Talfourd senior. Do not 
let Miss Gad a way take you off your feet.” 

Off his head,” substituted Sir Felix. I’ll bring him, if 
I must, Mr. Talfourd.” 

Of course it ended in Mrs. Brevoort Davies havinsrher will. 
Such things usually did, and whetlier he would or not. Lord 
Louis Barham, with his pale face, slightly stooping shoulders, 
weak eyes and inevitable eye-glass, was duly anchored in the 
opera box of Mrs. Brevoort. He was wonderfully easy to get on 
with, so Miss Gadaway afterward assured any number of her 
dear friends, adding that he was wholly unacquainted with 
American manners and customs,” but was full of interest and 
very eager to learn. He wanted to make a study of their so- 
ciety, he had assured Miss Gadaway, and congratulated him- 
self upon having begun most auspiciously. 

Before the end of the evening, he was committed to Mrs. 
Brevoort Davies for a very informal luncheon, and to Miss 
Gadaway for a musicale. 

Lord Louis Barham was not a great conversationalist, but 
then it was not necessary that he should be. One man can’t 
be everything, and was it not enough to be a live lord ? 


464 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Besides, he was a charming listener, and as fond of five 
o’clock tea and gossip as was Mrs. Brevoorfc herself. In fact, 
he was as wax in the hands of the fair sex, and before the end 
of the week he was Mrs. Brevoort Davies’ most devoted slav& 
So much infatuated did he become, that he gradually cut loose 
from Mr. Talfonrd and Max and Sir Felix, and wentabout at 
the heels of his new chaperone^ drinking tea, listening, and 
chatting. Sometimes he brought with him Max, Sir Felix, or 
Talfourd pere^ but oftener he was alone. 


CHAPTER LXIV. 

MR. PAGET IN THE FIELD. 

At the time this young lordling was making his bow to 
society, marshalled by Mrs. Brevoort D., as the lady was fa- 
miliarly named by her set,” Leah Paget was passing through 
an ordeal. 

One morning, early, and very unostentatiously, Francis Fer- 
rars made his appearance before Leah Paget. He was serious 
and seemed hurried. 

Miss Paget,” he said, at once, I have come to claim your 
promise.” 

Oil !” Leah caught her breath, but looked him squarely 
in the eye. 

It is time to act. The thing I wish to accomplish neces- 


MR. PAGET IN THE FIELD. 


465 


sitates a change of residence for you. I want you to take up 
your abode witli Mrs. Volney.^’ 

The girl started again, flushed, and then paled. 

May I know why she asked. 

Not yet.’^ 

But Sara — Mrs. Volney — is going away.” 

Francis Ferrars smiled. Leave that to me,” lie said. 

Tlie question is, will you go ? And will you obey my in- 
structions once you are there ?” 

He was looking her squarely in the face, and after a mo- 
ment she lifted her head with a proud gesture. 

You have my promise already, sir. I will obey your in- 
structions.” 

Good. The rest you may trust to me.” 

On the evening of that day Abner Paget rang at Mrs. Vol- 
ney’s door and was admitted. 

Mrs. Volney was at home, and two gentlemen arose as the 
last comer entered. Sara Volney ’s welcome was as gently cor- 
dial as ever, when she came forward to welcome him. 

Mr. Paget, ah, this is kind !” Then she turned swiftly, 

Mr. Talfourd,” she said ; and instantly Talfoiird pere arose 
and gave his hand to Paget, dropping back in his seat again 
with utmost sang froid. Again Mi s. Volney turned. Mr. 
Paget, allow me. Lord Barham.” 

Lord Barham arose and languidly saluted. 

Happy to meet you. Lord Barham,” said Mr. Paget. 

^^Aw-er — yes, thanks, awfully pleased, Ihn shuah.” 

Mr. Paget, always prompt and straightforward, soon made 
known the object of his visit, prefacing it by a word of apol- 
ogy. 

He found, quite unexpectedly, that he must absent himself 


466 


A LOST WITNESS. 


from the city, setting out at once. He might be gone two 
weeks or more, and he very much wished to take Mrs. Paget 
with him. As for Leah, they, of course, could not leave 
her at home with only the servants, and so he had come to ask 
could Mrs. Volney be induced to go to his house and keep 
Leah company during their absence? 

Mrs. Volney looked very sympathetic, but hesitated a little, 
and Talfourd 'pere broke in upon their conference in his hearty 
way. 

Paget, why didn’t you think of ns, of Mrs. Talfourd ? Don’t 
you know what a boon the presence of Leah would be to us 
all ? Of course, Sara can’t go, and shut her door in all our faces. 
I protest against it. I value my evenings in these rooms, 
sir.” 

And I, too, value them, Mr. Talfourd,” said Mrs. Volney, 
smiling up at him, for in the earnestness of his appeal Tal- 
fourd had risen, and must protest likewise. With Leah 
in your house, how many of your evenings would 1 get, I won- 
der ? Let us compromise. Bring Leah to me, Mr. Paget. It 
would make me very happy if she would come.” 

And so it was settled. Leah Paget became a member of 
Sara Volney ’s household. The drama played by Francis Fer- 
rars had begun. 

When Abner Paget came home and reported to his wife 
and daughter the success of his mission, and Sara Volney’s re- 
ply, he said with a somewhat mystified look : 

I don’t quite see through that detective’s plan.” And 
then he added, “ Mr. Talfourd was there, and that new 
Englishman, Lord Barham. Talfourd, by the way, actually 
asked Leah to come to his house.” 


THE SECRETARY SPEAKS. 


46'i 


‘Oh,” said his wife, “and you do not understand that?” 
“ I suppose the detective sent him there. At any rate, Sara 
was prompt in asking Leah to come to her.” 

^‘She thinks I will refuse,” said Leah, and she exchanged 
a swift glance with her mother. 


CHAPTER LXV. 

THE SECRETARY SPEAKS. 

Perhaps much of the success which had waited upon the 
career of the English detective may have been traced to his 
fine eye for details, his never-failing memory, aiid his keen per- 
ception of little things. Nothing was too small to be weighed 
and noted, no trivial circumstance was allowed to pass from 
his thoughts until it had been tested, compared, studied by 
different lights and from different points of view. He did not 
content himself with the one hearing of a story, nor with the 
version of one individual. 

Once a Scotland Yards detective had said of him, Ferrars 
has no system ; he works by inspiration.” But this was not 
true, at least of the system. Ferrars had not one system, but 
many, and out of the many he adapted one to each individual 
with whom he dealt. 

Pie had held, it would seem, an exhaustive interview with 
Frederick Quinlan. But he sought him again, in his own 
rooms, as at first, and asked of him a repetition of his history 
of Hortense Novalis. On this occasion Mr. Quinlan found 


468 


A LOST WITNESS. 


his task more difficult. Ferrars was burdened with no note- 
book and pencil, but he interrupteil the narrative unpleasantly, 
often by sharp and unexpected questions, allowing no smallest 
detail to pass him without scrutiny. 

When he arose to go, Ferrars turned abruptly upon his 
host. 

Do you feel convinced that I am doing all that can be done ? 
am taking the right course to solve this mystery ?” he asked. 

Quinlan laughed. If I didn’t before, I do now. I feel 
as if I had been winnowed.” 

Tlien you are not inclined to accept the overtures of the 
‘ Star Detective Bureau ?’ ” 

Quinlan started and stared. 

''Good Heavens, niau ! do you know everything ?” 

If I did,” retorted Ferrars, I should not be here ques- 
tioning you. It does not need clairvoyant power to know that 
th’s Agency has been making overtures to you.” 

Quinlan smiled bitterly, while he drew a breath of relief. 

Then I am absolved,” he said, if you have investigated, 
as no doubt you have. I think you must know that, whatever 
else I may be, I am a man of my word among men.” 

Ferrars bowed. 

I have been approached by these people, and declined to 
deal with them, even to hear them. They asked me to keep the 
matter quiet, and I did so.” 

Quite rigid, as to keeping the promise. But did they im- 
press you as able to accomplish this work ?” 

'' Frankly, I don’t know. They have struck out upon a line 
quite at antipodes with yours, I should say.” 

Ferrars smiled. 

'' If I thought them equal to the task, I would most willingly 


THE SECRETARY SPEAKS. 


469 


turn it over to he said. Let me give you a hint, Mr. 

Quinlan. The gentlemen of the ‘ Star Agency’ are keeping 
you under surveillance.” 

Quinlan laughed scornfully. So, I dare say, are the emis- 
saries of Mr. Ferrars,” he said. Forewarned — you know.” 

Frederick Quinlan was not alone in this inquisitorial ex- 
perience. 

Over again. Max Talfourd repeated, as he thought, all that 
he knew, and then answered questions which convinced him 
that much had been forgotten. 

Over and over, did Talfourd senior review the ground with 
Ferrars, each time finding it, somehow, fresh. 

Again and yet again the detective found pretext for consult- 
ing Abner Paget, Mrs. Paget, Leah. 

As for Sir Felix Wyntoun, he became so fluent in rehears- 
ing all that he knew of La Belle Fabrice, of Madam Con- 
greve — even of the maid, their attendant, that he could iiave 
told the story, or so he declared, in his sleep. 

I call this sort of thing very unfair, Frank,” Sir Felix re- 
monstrated, at the close of one of their rehearsals, when he 
had told his story and been politely dismissed. But I would 
forgive you all, everything, if in return you would tell me 
just one little thing.” 

And that is ?” 

And that is — where may I find La Belle Fabrice ?” 

Ferrars smiled indulgently upon his friend. 

My dear fellow,” he remonstrated, you are asking, per- 
haps, something for nothing.” 

^^onsense. When Frank Ferrars displays so much inter- 
est as to wish to liear again and again the same story, it’s 
something he has on his mind. Now, if I could peer into 


470 


A LOST WITNESS. 


that note-book of yours, whicli you never look into yourself, 
except in private or very slyly—” 

Stop,” broke in Ferrars, with sudden gravity, and turning 
to resume his seat at the round table, and sit down again, 
dear boy. First, let me assure you that you have not been tell- 
ing me the same story. You have been making the thing 
cle:irer with every repetition, and today, for the first time, I 
feel quite sure that you really have nothing more to tell. Your 
memory, at last, is fully unburdened.” 

He drew from his pocket a small leather-covered book. 

I do not want to be unnecessarily mysterious with you, my 
boy. So now I am going to let you peep into this note-book, 
and I want you to see, as I think you will, that, until the prob- 
lems here set forth are solved, the questions answered, it is 
best that you dp not see La Belle Fabrice.” 

He placed the note-book upon the table between them, and 
opened it at a certain paragraph. 

Sir Felix bent over it and read with some surprise. Mem.: 
La Belle Fabrice. To learn her antecedents, her real name, 
nationality, etc.” 

Here followed a minute description of the little Comedienne. 

Item : La Belle Fabrice arrived in New York from 
London on steamer ^ Albatross,’ date , accom- 

panied by Madam Congreve and maid. Took rooms at 

the . Stranger in City, yet on called 

at rooms ofHortense NovalL,” etc., etc. 

Good Heavens !” ejaculated Sir Felix. 

Go on,” said the detective. 

Item : On the day following the disappearance of Miss 
Leah Paget, and while listening to the news of said dis'appear- 
ance. La Belle Fabrice faints for no cause apparent. Mem. : 


THE SECRETARY SPEAKS. 


471 


To have copies of all newspapers of that date, also files of same 
dating hack indefinitely, examined immediately.’’ 

Again Sir Felix looked up. And has that been done?” 

It will he done.” 

Mem. : To learn the connection between La Belle Fahrice 
and Hortense Novalis. Item : To learn the true reason for 
the coTvtretemps at the dinner projected by Hortense Novalis. 
Item ; Why did La Bdle at first refuse to appear upon the 
stage with Hortense Novalis and afterward consent ? Why did 
she flee on the night before the first appearance, and whither?” 

Umph !” Sir Felix lifted his face and the detective closed 
the book. According to that I needn’t anticipate seeing La 
Belle soon ?” 

Why ?” 

Because it’s a huge undertaking even to learn where she 
is, and as for the rest — ” 

My dear fellow,” said Ferrars, pocketing the book and 
again rising, ^Het every man stick to his calling. I expect 
to have all the knowledge I need, within the week. No, don’t 
stare; I’ve said enough. Be patient, my dear fellow, and get 
thee gone.” 

When Sir Felix had' betaken himself to other scenes, the 
detective sat down again at the table, reproduced from his 
pocket the note-book, re-inforced it with other note-books, and 
began by tiie aid of these to write out something that looked 
much like a ^ property list,’ meant for the use of some stage 
manager, but more statistical. When this was completed he 
went with it to the door of an inner room, tapped lightly, and 
without waiting for a response or bidding, entered. 

Seated upon a stool before a tall desk was tiie same busy, 
elderly man who had reigned over one of the offices in Cap- 


472 


A LOST WITNESS. 


taiii Connor’s domain. He was as alert and methodical here 
as there. He was writing wlien Ferrars, now his Chief, en- 
tered, and he finished his sentence and put away his pen as 
usual before giving that individual the least attention. 

Witli a twinkle of amusement in his eye Ferrars waited, 
paper in hand. 

^‘Here is the list of catch words,” he said, when at la>t his 
secretary turned toward him. Look them over and form any 
new combinations that may suggest tliemselves. I will see that 
the files come promptly now.” He put down the list and 
turned away. I leave you in charge,” he added ; I shall be 
gone probably all the afternoon.” 

Not long after, Francis Ferrars, divested of all disguise, and 
dressed like the thoroughly English gentleman - he was, was 
making the rounds of the city newspaper offices. 

He went about in a cab for convenience and time’s sake, 
and his calls were always brief. In every case he asked to see 
the chief of the staff, and to him presented the letter of intro- 
duction given him by Chief of Police Connors. 

Tlie letter worked its magic, and the detective was welcomed 
at every editorial door. He asked of each only one or two 
questions, and from every office a huge file of newspapers soon 
found their way to his headquarters, where they were received 
by the methodical secretary and duly arranged as seemed to 
him best. 

Upon the round Ferrars had made one omission ; he had 
not visited the office of the CalV^ 

It was late in the afternoon when he returned, and he seemed 
in some haste. He summoned his secretary to him as he sat 
at his table in the outer room, with his note-books again be- 
fore him, and he spoke without looking up. 


THE SECRETARY SPEAKS. 


473 


“ I want you to go to tlie office of the “ Evening Call,” he 
said, “ and get a file of iheir papers. I have not visited that 
office. Do you understand 2’^ 

I think so/^ The secretary stood close beside him and held 
a slip of paper in his hand. Can you spare me a moment, 
sirf’ 

Ferrars looked up quickly. 

Certainly, if it is needful. What is it?^’ 

The old man laid down the paper, and Ferrars saw that it 
was his list of catch words.’^ 

‘‘ It’s only a coincidence, perhap.s,” said the secretary, slowly, 
but I find here, upon this list, some words, names, that are 
quite familiar to me.” 

Ah !” Ferrars turned quickly so as to face him. What 
are they ?” 

There are two or three. South Brandon, for instance — ” 

Do you know South Brandon ?” 

I have been there.” 

Good ; and when ?” 

More than six years ago, for the first time ; four years, for 
the last.” 

What other words do you recognize ?” 

Only one that I connect with South Brandon.” 

And that ?” 

Is a name. The Widow Holly.” 

Ferrars sprang to his feet. The secretary was still stand- 
ing. Sit down,” said the listener, and tell me what you 
know of South Brandon and the Widow Holly.” 

But the methodical scribe did not at once accept the seat so 
promptly indicated by the detective. He placed a finger upon 
the chair-back, and said, 


474 


A LOST WITNESS. 


What I know of South Brandon is hot much. Holly — 
that brought to my memory a little drama, or maybe a tragedy 
in the end, which happened while I was recreating there fora 
week or two ; taking my summer vacation, in fact/’ 

Was the Widow Holly a figure in that drama ?” broke in 
Ferrars, quickly. 

« Yes.’’ 

“ Tell me your drama. Tell me all you know of the wo- 
man Holly.” 

Again he motioned the old man to be seated, and tliis time 
the chair was promptly occupied. 

Well,” said the old man, depreciatingly, as if he were about 
to confess a crime, or at the least an almost unpardonable indis- 
cretion, this drama, or possible tragedy, made a deep impres- 
sion upon my mind. In fact,” and he almost blushed, it took 
such hold of me that I wrote it out, in form of a narrative, and 
intended to send it to some story paper for publication, think-- 
ing it would be given space as entertaining fiction, and that 
its hidden meaning, as fact, would reveal itself to the parties 
interested, if it should happen to meet their eyes. But I never 
sent it to any publisher” — this with the air of one tempted to 
burglary, but who had successfully resisted the enticement. 

When I found the words ^ South Brandon’ and ‘ Widow 
Holly’ on youiTist, I hunted up my never-used but preserved 
story. It teils all the facts as clearly and, perhaps, as concisely 
as I could tell them now. Shall I read it to you, or shall I 
give you a summary of the matter ?” 

Read it,” said Ferrars, promptly. ‘^In this case I want 
all the details that can be had, and, above everything, the im- 
pressions they made upon you at the time, rather than your 
present estimate of them.” 


THE MYSTERY OF SOUTH BRANDON.” 


475 




CHAPTER LXVI. 

THE scribe’s one LITERARY OFFSPRING. 

Ferrars settled back in his chair, an intent look upon his 
face, and the scribe essayed his new role of giving a reading.” 

I called my little story,” said he, with a true reader’s pre- 
monitory cough, 

THE MYSTERY OF SOUTH BRANDON.” 

^^Of all dull, dead, monotonous things or places, country 
life, in a country hotel, is the dullest, the deadest, the most 
monotonous !” quoth a summer boarder, who stood yawning 
upon the piazza of the only hotel of South Brandon. Did 
anything ever happen here. Freckles ?” 

The city boarder was an old bachelor accountant, obliged to 
manage” his modest salary in order to secure for himself 
even this brief and unfashionable outing, and he never took to 
himself airs, except upon these holiday occasions. 

Of course,” interpolated the reader, his old bachelor 
was myself.” I see,” said Ferrars, with a smile of indulged 
amusement. I see ; go on.”) 

Freckles,” sitting upon the upper step of the flight of five, 
said gruffly : 

Why don’t you go to Saratogy if you don’t like S’th 
Brandon ?” 


476 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Oil said the city boarder, Saratoga, eh ! What do you 
know about Saratoga ?” 

Freckles arose slowly. I guess I can read the news- 
papers,’’ he replied, sulkily, as he went down the steps. 

“You do? When do you — ” The question, undoubtedly 
meant to be a facetious one, was checked in the utterance by a 
series of shrill exclamations and sharp feminine cries, coming 
evidently from a side “ stoop” where the landlady and two or 
three “ helps” were busy about some household employ- 
ment. 

“ That’s old Mother Gregory a-talkin’ so fast an’ splutter- 
in’, She’s the biggest bag o’ news in town. You hold on a 
minit ; mebbe something’s happened just on yowr account. I’ll 
see if I can’t git it fer yer breakfast.” 

“ All right, Freckles — ” Here shrill cries of “ Pete, Pete, 
Pe — ter” came from the direction of the side porch, and as 
Freckles accelerated his speed and disappeared around the 
nearest corner, the summer boarder lighted a cigar and saun- 
tered away for his morning constitutional. 

Half an hour later, returning from his morning walk, he 
came suddenly upon Freckles, who emerged from the gate of 
a small brown cottage, and held it open for a woman arrayed 
in a faded calico dreSs and with her face quite hidden in a sun- 
bonnet. She passed them with a slow dragging step, and, as 
the boy closed the gate, he placed a finger upon his lips, and, 
with a gesture, halted the other until the woman had gone a 
little beyond them. Then he broke out in a breathless under- 
tone — 

“ Wal, I guess you’ll be satisfied now ! If what’s happened 
this morning or last night, or whenever ’twas, ain’t enough to 
give folks like you an appetite I lon’t know what you want, 


THE MYSTEEY OP SOUTH BRANDON/^ 477 

anyhow. I knew old Catty Gregory had somethin’ bad on 
her mind when I heard lier splutterin’ so.” 

‘^Look here, boy, what are you ^spluttering’ about?” He 
took the lad by the slioulder and gave him a gentle shake. 

Quit, I say ! Ain’t I a-tellin’ ye as fast as I can ? My ! 
don’t I wish I was a detective, though !” 

So, you read detective stories, do you, as well as fashion 
gossip ? You won’t make much of a detective till you learn 
to talk more to the point, I can tell you. Now, what has hap- 
pened ?” 

D’ye remember that little girl who brought the eggs, 
night before last ? I heard ye sayin’ to somebody on the 
stoop that she was mighty pretty. Wal, she’s gone !” 

Gone where ?” 

Clean gone. Her and two more — the very prettiest girls 
in town, too, every one of them !” 

Pshaw !” ejaculated the summer boarder, they’ll come 
back.” 

No, they won’t — not any !” The boy stopped suddenly. 
The woman going on before them had halted and was looking 
back. A"ou’ll have to find out the rest for ycrself,” he said. 

There’s plenty more. She ’j)ears to want me. I’m cornin’ ” 
he called to the waiting woman. 

These parting words of Freckles were strictly true. There 
was plenty more.” It occupied and interested the city 
boarder for the remainder of his slay. South Brandon was 
given over to mystery so dense, so impenetrable, that it absorb- 
ed more than the orthodox nine days of wonder and gossip. 
Other topics, other interests, other occupations almost, were 
swallowed up in the effort to solve ai unsolvable mystery. 
Village “ authjQrities,” county authorities.” authorities” 


478 


A LOST WITNESS. 

from neighboring towns and counties ; detectives, amateur, 
professional, private ; knowing citizens, practical citizens, phi- 
lanthropists and cranks, — -all turned the light of their reason 
and unreason, wisdom and foolishnc'ss, experience and lack of 
it, upon the South Brandon mystery —to no purpose. 

From the stoop of the South Brandon Hotel could be seen 
a tall white house, where the green shutters of the narrow front 
windows were always primly closed, except for a little while 
on Sunday afternoon, on company’’ days, and on days when 
the minister called ; where the path from the gate to the high, 
narrow, and steep front steps was overgrown with grass ; where 
the path around the house to the side stoop ahd back door was 
well trodden ; where quiet and prim severity reigned through 
the week, and severe piety ruled on Sunday. 

This was the home of Deacon Amos Sharp, and here lived 
Amos Sliarp and his wife, and Mary Sharp, his adopted daugh- 
ter. 

The house of Deacon Sharp, at the foot of Main Street, 
marked the street’s ending, and the road that began at Deacon 
Sharp’s front gate, and ran in a slanting line to the south-east, 
was little more than a lane. Upon this lane, not far from the 
tall white house at its head, stood the cabin — it could not have 
been dignified by the name of cottage, even — of Seth Hunt, 
bachelor, firmer, hunter, and fisherman ; lazy, good-humored, 
and the oracle of the village. With him, installed as house- 
keeper since her tenth year, lived his niece, his only sister’s 
child pretty, winsome, fifteen-year-old Betty Gage, an or- 
phan, and the pet of the village. 

At the other end of the town, and upon a back street,” 
stood the cottage of the Widow Holly, and in this cottage lived 
only the widow and her daughter, Hannie. Mrs Holly was 


THE MYSTERY OF SOUTH BRANDON.’^ 479 

r 

an Englishwoman of the working class, and her daughter was a 
very little girl when the widow, not a widow then but the wife 
of a drunken and boisterous English laborer, came to South 
Brandon. 

It was supposed that the name of the child had been, orig- 
inally, Anna. But the Hollys were one in their peculiar use 
of their H’s, and the name Hannie, as pronounced by them, 
grew to be the only name by which she was known. 

It was into these three houses. Deacon Sharpes, Seth Hunt’s, 
and the Widow Holly’s, that the spirit of mystery had en- 
tered. 

In a village where bright eyes, rosy cheeks, and sweet faces 
abounded, none were brighter, or rosier, or sweeter than Han- 
nie Holly’s, Betty Gage’s, and Mary Sharp’s. 

At sunset, on the previous evening, these three had laughed 
and frisked in the Widow Holly’s green door-yard. Later, 
they had mingled their voices in a merry chorus at a church fes- 
tival. And lastly, they had setout, Hannie and Betty to escort 
Mary to the Deacon’s front gate, and then to return together to 
the Widow’s cottage, where Betty was to pass the night with 
her friend. 

But they never came back to the Widow’s cottage. Never ; 
then or after ! ^ 

Seth Hunt was aware that Betty would not return to his 
humble cabin until such hour of the following day as suited 
the pleasure of his little household despot. And the Widow 
Holly went to her bed, as she had often done before, grum- 
bling to herself, and vowing Not to let that girl hout again 
until she had promised not to go running hoff to sleep with 
some of them ’orrid, wild girls.” 

It was Deacon Sharp who first raised the hue and cry for 


480 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Mary, who, although she had been adopted,” and given the 
Deacon’s name, coupled with that of his wife, occupied in the 
Deacon’s family a position more nearly akin to that of a bound 
girl than of a daughter. 

When at sunrise no Mary was heard tripping about the 
kitchen, the Deacon arose grumblingly, and bawled up the 
stairs for Mary to bestir herself. No Mary replied to him. 
No Mary appeared to him. And then, with lowering brow, 
the Deacon set out for the Widow Holly’s. 

Waal, mebbe the Lord’s meant it fora reproof to me,” the 
Deacon said, piously, when, weeks after, the search for the 
three girls were abandoned by most and pronounced hopeless. 

Mebbe the Lord didn’t want his servant to snatch such a 
brand from the burning, and set it up as a daughter in a pious 
household. Mary never was in the odor of sanctity, nohow. 
That gal was a sceptic ! Born so, most likely. Nobody ever 
knew what blood was in her, but we hoped she’d be something, 
my wife and me. She was just left at the door of that ’ere 
^ Home’ in a basket. They give us a sight of the clothes she 
had on, and no one in South Brandon ever see nothin’ like 
’em ; so fine, some of them ; silk, and all covered with lace and 
ribbons and fixin’s. Sure sign that she was from some high- 
up family, they said, when we took her. Purty sure of good 
blood on one side, anyhow. And I swan if I didn’t used to 
think there was, too, she used to carry herself so high and 
mighty. Sech children was likely to be hunted up sometime, 
even after they was growed up, they said, by rich relations. 
But I guess that was all talk,” sighed the worthy Deacon. 
^‘Anyway, we ain’t been very well rewarded, and I ain’t 
goin’ to try it again. ’Twould be a-flyin’ in the face of Prov- 


^^THE MYSTEKV OF SOt'lH BRANDON/^ 4S1 

idence to take anotfier waif that, ibr ail anybody knows, 
might a-been born bad.'’ And in this decision Deacon Sharp 
and his worthy wife rested. 

It’s a blessing to all the little orphans, too !” said Seth 
Hunt, confidentially, to Mrs. Holly. I heard little Mary 
a-talkin’ to Betty, and tellin’ about her mean bed and cold vit- 
tles and hard work. But that warn’t the case with my gal, 
nor yourn, Mrs. Holly ; and it don’t account for their leavin’ 
us — if they did go of their own accord, which I doubt.” 

Oh, it’s a judgment on me !” moaned the Widow Holly. 
And she threw her apron over her head, and wept so long and 
so bitterly that Seth Hunt ci ept away silently, and never again 
spoke to her of their mutual loss. 

It’s a judgment upon me !” That was all the Widow 
Holly would say to those who visited her with consoling 
words. Hif ever I find Hannie, it won’t be ’ere. She’ll 
never come back to me.” 

Nevertheless, she waited in patience and silence, perhaps in 
hope, for two long years. Then she sold her small house and 
went quietly away, her destination unknown to any, unless, it 
might have been, Seth Hunt. 

As for Seth, he had no word of blame or distrust for the lost 
Betty. 

I wasn’t the one to have the care of a girl like that,” he 
said. I meant right, but I didn’t know how. Betty was as 
good as gold. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. I can’t believe she’d 
run away from her old uncle, but if she did, it was because I 
didn’t know how to please her. How should I? just a rough 
old man.” 

This, or something of the sort, he said, standing on the piazza 
of the little iiotel, on the day after the discovery of the myste- 

16 


482 


A LOST WITNESS, 


rious disappearance. He was surrounded by the hotel family, 
most of them summer boarders like our bachelor. 

Dear me exclaimed a little black-eyed woman, who was 
alone in South Brandon — A little in the literary line,^^ she 
had explained to the curious, and interested in mission work. 

She had been at the hotel a month, and owing to her reg- 
ular attendance at the village Sabbath school was already upon 
terms of intimacy, almost, with the Deacon and Mrs. Sharp. 

Dear me, sir ; do you know, have you any idea, what can 
have happened to those poor children? Why, I quite knew 
the little girl at Deacon Sharp’s ! Poor thing !” 

I don’t suspect anybody, marm,” Seth Hunt had answer- 
ed. And if I should I wouldn’t know where to begin.” 

The vacation of this summer boarder expired, and no trace 
of the missing maidens had been found. He returned to his 
desk in the great city, but all its noise and bustle failed to 
quite obliterate his recollection of the mystery, and so, after 
three years, our bachelor again turned his holiday steps tow’ard 
South Brandon. 

He found few changes ; but the former landlord of the lit- 
tle hotel had gone west” with his numerous family, and 
Freckles was no longer general factotum. 

Walking down the village street, on the evening of his ar- 
rival, the bachelor found Mrs. Gregory over her gate, just as 
of yore. 

Their greeting was like that of old friends. She was able 
to tell him everything. And she did. 

Deacon Sharp had buried his wife, and had married a spin- 
ster of reputed fortune and undisputed temper, who led him, 
so said Mrs. Gregory, a life of it !” 

Mrs Holly had gone away, nobody knew whither. 


THE MYSTERY OF SOUTH BRANDON.’^ 483 

She always would say that it was a judgment on her, her 
losing Hannie that way/^ quoth Mrs. Gregory. And I guess, 
for my part, that ^twas. I ain’t said much to folks about here, 
but I’d jest as leave tell you what I think. I never did be- 
lieve that the girl was o’ Holly blood. He was stout and red- 
faced and tow-headed ; and she — well, you know what the Wid- 
ow Holly was — a stub nose, and hair jest no color. Dretful 
common looking, both of ’em. While Hannie — did you ever 
happen to see her, when you was here ? Wal, she wns black- 
eyed and black-haired and high-stepping. There was some kind 
of a yarn got out long ago — started from Joe Holly in his cups, 
’twas said. I never got the rights of it, but it was sometiiing 
about Mrs. Holly having been servant in some rich English 
family, and going with them to France, and coming back and 
being discharged, and taking up with Joe Holly, that she’d 
mittened onct, and ngi’eeing to marry him if he go to live in 
the States. I heard Mrs. Holly say that Hannie was born 
on the ocean, coming across.” 

Really !” said our bachelor for want of otlier words. 

Yes ; and Mis’ Stebbins, she was the widder’s neighbor, 
told me long ago that Holly, when he was in liquor, used to 
call Hannie ‘Mittle Frenchy.” And she said she asked the 
widder onct what he meant, and she turned as red as fire, 
and said she had heard that French folks were mostly dark and 
had nice ways, and so Joe called Hannie that because her eyes 
were black and she put on such a lot of airs. I guess there 
was some French blood there, myself.” 

‘^And Mr. Hunt?” 

Wal, now, that’s the strangest part of it all ! About a 
year ago some fellers was trudging around on Seth’s little strip 
of land, a-tapping the rocks. It was jest about all rocks or 


484 


A LOST WITNESS. 

Seth wouldn’t ever have been able to own it. One fine morn- 
ing it turned out that they bad found something valuable 
there ; some kind o’ slate or the like. They offered Seth cheap, 
but be was too cute for them; and then they offered fair. The 
upshot of the matter is, that now Seth Hunt is the richest man 
in South Brandon, and gettin’ richer — he wouldn’t sell only 
by shares.” 

Aud he still lives here ?” 

Yes, right at the old cabin. It’s good enough for him, 
he says. Tliat man sticks to it that Betty’ll come back some 
day. Aud then, he says, he’s going to build her a fine house. 
One of the first things that he did was to have a notice printed 
in about a dozen of the big city papers, one or two in a place, 
for Betty to come back. And he says that he is going to keep 
them notices there till they bring her to him. Every day 
they’ll be in them papers, year in and year out. He won’t be- 
lieve no harm of Betty, and he won’t believe she’s dead.” 

And yet he was good to her — and she left him ?” 

Betty was young,” said the gossip, leniently. I’ll tell you 
what I’ve always thought about her. Hannie Holly was a 
wild, sassy girl, if she was so pretty and dainty in her ways — 
she warn’t no prettier nor daintier than Betty, I can tell ye. 
And Hannie used to run away from home, and she wouldn’t 
mind her ma a bit. She was full of all sorts of queer no- 
tions, and was awful ambitious to be dressed nice and be some- 
body. But Betty set lots of store by Hannie, and they 
was awful thick. Then, there was Deacon Sharp’s Mary. 
She was another high-headed and ambitious one. Not that 
she was wild, like Hannie, nor full of laughter or mischief, 
like Betty. She was awful soft and slow-spoken and still in 
her ways, but she had plenty of temper. Anybody could tell 


THE MYSTERY OF SOUTH BRANDON.’’ 


485 


a 


that by her reddish hair and her sleepy-lookiiig yellow eyes, 
when she’d open ’em wide. But nobody knows wliat bad 
blood there was in her. Now, I think that them two girls, 
being such friends of Betty’s, mebbe coaxed or tempted her 
into something; and poor little Betty, who warn’t so strong- 
willed as them, mebbe, was jest led away by ’em. Mightn’t 
that be so, hey ?” 

Might it not have been ? Our bachelor looked away down 
the street to where the Beacon’s dwelling gleamed white at its 
foot, and then suddenly back, and asked : 

Bo you remember that little black-eyed woman who was 
at the hotel at the time this happened ?” 

Mrs. Gregory reflected a moment. 

Her ? oh, yes. I do remember her, the way she left the 
very next night after them girls went, and she had paid her 
board to the end of the week. I recollect it plain enough, now 
you mention it. She said she’d been called away on account 
of a friend being took sudden. Land ! we were all that 
worked-up at the time with them girls’ disaj)pearance, that no- 
body had no time to bother with her. But come to think of 
it, it was kind of funny. Pete, he always brought the mail 
from the Post Office, and I remember now he said that was all 
bosh. He said the woman didn’t get no letter.” 

And so the bachelor boarder once more went back to his 
desk, and the fate of Hannie and Betty and Mary, the mystery 
of South Brandon, only became more of a mystery, darker and 
deeper, and more and more doubtful of solution, as years 
rolled on. 

Before the end was reached, the detective was pacing up and 
down the room, his hands burrowing his pockets for very rest- 


486 


A LOST WITNESS. 


lessness, his eyes growing intent and eager, a red spot coming 
and going on either cheek — sure sign that he was deeply moved 
or interested. 

When the old man had finished, Ferrars turned sharply 
about and faced him. 

Do you know, Murtagh, that what you have been telling 
me is of vital importance,^’ he said. And then without wait- 
ing for a reply, Is that all? Was there no clue, no sus- 
picion ?” 

None, to my knowledge.” 

Ferrars eyed him keenly. You have told this story graph- 
ically, minutely,” he said. ‘‘You must have been interested in 
it, at the time ?” 

“ I was — yes. I was,” 

“ And you — you are a thinking man, a man of the world — 
had you no suspicions, no theory, even ?” 

The old man started and a flush crossed his face. He was 
silent a moment, then he looked up and met the gaze of the 
detective squarely. 

“ It was the strangest thing I ever had knowledge of. And 
— yes, I did harbor an idea, a suspicion or theory. But it 
was vague, and, so far as proof or lack of proof could make 
it, groundless. I had a thought, and was once or twice strongly 
tempted to hint it to Seth Hunt or some of the village of- 
ficials, but — ” 

“Well ?” came sharply from Ferrars. Then, seeing the dis- 
tress in the old man’s face, he seated himself again and spoke 
more calmly. “ Tell me your thought, please.” 

But now it was the old man who was upon his feet, flushing 
and restless. 

“ I have had moments,” he began, slowly, when I have 


THE MYSTERY OF SOUTH BRANDON.’^ 487 

felt the responsibility of a fearful wrong heavy upon me, and 
yet, at the time, I could not have done otherwise. Another 
man might; I couldift. When I went to South Brandon for 
my poor little holiday, I was an accountant dependent upon 
my health, which was beginning to break a little, and my sal- 
ary. I didn’t call myself an old man then, although I dare 
say others did, and I didn’t feel particularly old, and I did 
look upon myself as a man of the world, as compared to the 
South Brandon people. I felt very worldly-wise no doubt, 
but not woman-wise.” 

Ferrars laughed and his face softened. The tall, thin old 
man before him, pale and stooping from much desk work, 
looked amusingly unlike the man he was describing as himself 
a few years younger. “ Sit down,” he said, and take your 
time.” 

‘‘Thank you.” The old man resumed his seat and his re- 
miniscences. “ I was not woman-wise. My mother died when 
I was a child. I had no sisters. I have always lived among 
men, and I have always been shy of women. When the three 
girls vanished so suddenly from South Brandon, there was one 
other city boarder besides myself at the little hotel. It was a 
woman. She was there before me ; had been there, I think, 
for several weeks. She assumed to be doing something ‘ lite- 
rary.’ When I learned that, I kept as far away from her as 
possible. But the house was not large, and sometimes I was 
forced to hear bits of her conversation. This woman’s litera- 
ture must have been frequently at odds with grammar, if she 
wrote as she talked. She interested herself very much in the 
young people, gushed over them in fact, and was always a light 
at Sunday-school, and at all the little pic-nics and village gather- 
ings. Well, when these girls disappeared, somehow the idea 


488 


A LOST WITNESS. 


that this woman might have had a hand in the business came 
into my mind, and has stayed there.” 

Ferrars drew his chair closer and leaned toward the speaker. 

Describe her,” he said. 

small, darked-skinned woman, with coarse black hair, al- 
ways a little untidy. She was thin and sharp-featured, with 
beady black eyes. She must have been past middle age, and 
dressed rather youthfully and none too tidily. I got into 
the way of calling her — to myself, of course — ^ the shabby 
genteel.^ ” 

Ferrars was once more manifesting unusual excitement. 

Her name ?” he said. 

I don’t recall it, if I ever heard it. She was called ^ the 
lady,’ or the ^ city lady,’ usually, when spoken of. 

Would you know her if you saw her?” 

1 think so. Those beady black eyes and sharp features — 
yes, I would know her.” 

Would she know you ?” 

Murtagh glanced down at his person. 

I was slightly grey then,” he said. Now, my hair is 
white. My face was florid then and my figure portly. Now, I 
am pale and thin. No, I don’t think she would recognize me.” 

Ferrars got up again, no longer trying to keep down the 
manifestations of his interest and impatience. 

I may as well say to you,” he said, that, what you are 
telling me may be of gravest importance. Up to this 
point it has not been needful for you to know more of the 
work we are engaged in than Captain Connors told you when 
he sent you to me, and that was — ” 

Almost nothing,” the old man said, and smiled. Only, 
that you were Francis Ferrars, the famous London detective; 


THE MYSTERY OF SOUTH BRANDON.” 


489 


« 


tliat you were engaged upon the Novalis murder case, and were 
in need of an amanuensis, a searclier of records and newspa- 
per files; a machine, in short, like myself.” 

Well, you are likely to turn out more than a machine. 
Now, tell me what aroused your suspicion of this black-eyed 
woman ?” 

At first, I suppose it must have been my natural aversion ; 
next, the fact that she was so fond of these girls ; and lastly, she 
went away on the second day after the girls vanished. 
She pretended to have received a sumqions to the bedside of 
a sick friend, and that she was coming back ; but she did not 
come back.” 

^^And you never named your suspicion to any one?” 

How could I, with no proof? I, myself, was a stranger. 
The woman was odious to me. I believed her to be an ad- 
venturess, but — she was a woman, and I might have done her 
a great wrong. I was not in a position to follow up or to ver- 
ify my suspicions. The matter was on my mind more or less, 
however, for two years. And when my next summer’s holi- 
day came around, I went again to South Brandon. I had an 
idea it would quiet my scruples to learn whether the woman 
had returned. I made inquiry in a careless fashion, and then 
I regretted more than ever that I had not spoken of my no- 
tion at the proper time, for the woman was never seen again.” 

What else did you learn ?” 

I picked up a good deal of gossip about the lost girls, and 
one incident that was very pathetic. It has been my one little 
romance ever since, a sort of link that has always kept South 
Brandon before my mind, until, one day — only a short time 
ago — that came to an end.” 

“ What are you talking about, man ?” 


490 


A LOST WITNESS. 


When the search for the lost girls was given up by all, 
Seth Hunt, a fine, honest, big-hearted fellow, inserted an ad- 
vertisement in a number of city papers, east and west. It was 
addressed to little Bettie Gage, begging her to come back to 
him, and worded as if it were he who had done the wrong. I 
have looked for that advertisement, and found it day after 
day. One morning, not long ago, it was missing. It has never 
appeared since.” 

We must find that date,” said Ferrars, quickly. Tell 
me, did you ever see those three girls ?” 

One of them only — Bettie Gage.” 

For some moments Ferrars stood silent, intently looking at 
nothing, and thinking hard and fast. Then he put a hand 
upon the old man’s shoulder. 

By your aid I think we shall clear up more than one mys- 
tery soon. I know from Captain Connors how trustworthy 
you are, and I intend to take you into my confidence. But not 
now.” He looked at his watch. I am going out. I am 
going in person to bring into your presence a woman who may 
turn out to be your shabby genteel friend of South Brandon. 
Draw that screen before your door, and be ready to see, with- 
out being seen ; to hear without being heard.” 


THE ‘‘ palmist/^ 


491 


I CHAPTER LXYII. 

THE PALMIST.’^ 

The first movement of the detective, after leavn’ngthe secre- 
tary thus abruptly, was to send a message to Mr. Talfourd, 
asking him to come at a given hour to his rooms. Then he 
took a cab, and was now standing before a dark door up two 
flights of darker stairs, tapping sharply for admittance. 

Upon the door was tacked a card bearing the name of 

Madam Van Horn,’^ and below the name, in quaint Italicized 
type, the word Palmist.” 

It was the palmist in person who admitted him, with a glance 
of chill welcome, and the palmist was no othertlian the woman 
whose journey to South Brandon had been so ruthlessly inter- 
rupted by the man before her. 

It was not yet dusk, but the little room into which she ad- 
mitted him was dimly lighted. With its dark hangings and 
grotesque arrangements it was well calculated to strike the 
seeker after truth with a wholesome awe of the seeress who in- 
habited it. 

The seeress was arrayed in loose-hanging, sombre garments, 
and a fantastic turban upon her head served to emphasize the 
effect of many and heavy waves of snow-white hair beneath. 
She greeted her early visitor with a silent stare, and he, with 
scant ceremony, stepped within and closed the door. 


492 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Get off that toggery at once,” he said, curtly, “ and come 
with me.” 

But it’s my business hour, it’s the very time — ” 

He made a quick movement toward her. 

Your business is to do just what I tell you. Don’t waste 
words. I want you.” 

A moment the palmist stood sullenly eyeing him, then she 
turned slowly and went behind the dark curtain. When she 
came out she was no more Madam Van Horn, the palmist. 
She was simply the old woman with beady black eyes, sharp 
features, and sullen face, following reluctantly at the heels of 
her master. 

Arrived at his own door once more, Ferrars opened it with 
a latch-key, and bade the woman enter, closing and locking 
it, and hastily drawing down the blinds. 

Sit there.” 

He pointed to a chair close beside the table, and so placed 
that she faced the screen at the other end of the room. With- 
out a word she seated herself, and Ferrars lighted the gas 
above her head, flooding the room with a strong light. Then 
he sat down near her, and looked at her in silence for a 
moment. Finally, he said, very quietly, 

Your career has been a strange one, but I cannot think 
that you have murder upon your soul.” 

I !” the woman started and turned ghastly pale. I !” — 
She could say no more. 

And yet,” Ferrars went on, still as if half to himself, “ it 
looks as if you might.” 

The woman actually wrung her hands. “ I — I don’t un- 

derstand.” 

Suddenly Ferrars drew himself up and his face became stern. 


THE PALMIST.’^ 


493 


you know that you are likely to oe arrested, at any 
time, as an accomplice in the murder of Horteuse Novalis and 
her maid Virginie 

''I! My God! why?'' 

Well, for one thing, you are thouglit to be in communi- 
cation with La Belle Fabrice, and La Belle Fabrice, it is pretty 
clearly proven, is the one who killed, or instigated the killing, 
of the two women." 

The woman sprang up. ‘‘ It's a lie," she cried, hoarsely, 
'^t'sa foul lie !" 

What, that La Belle — " 

I don't know anything about La Belle Fabrice." She ut- 
tered the name venomously. I never was her accomplice. 
I—" 

Softly, softly," said Ferrars. Listen.to plain facts. Lis- 
ten to what we know. First, La Belle Fabrice and Hortense 
Novalis were enemies — we won't go into the reasons why. They 
were enemies. They were also rivals. You would better sit 
down. Madam. On the night of the murder, La Belle dis- 
appeared. Now, it is known that you visited both of these ri- 
val actresses, probably as a go-between." 

^‘It's a lie !" she burst forth again. 

Careful ! Here comes the clincher. We know La Belle 
Fabrice to be in South Brandon." He was watching the wo- 
man's face through half-closed eyes. ‘‘ And we know that you, 
too, would be there, but for — well, say but for me." 

A great change had crossed the woman's face. The fear had 
gone out of it ; a look of relief, of malicious triumph, had taken 
its place. 

If you know where to find her," she said, why don't you 
have her arrested ?" 


494 


A LOST WITNESS. 


What? You say that? Are you then so willing to 
give up your jproUg^e 

She’s no proUg^e of mine/’ said she, sullenly. 

No ? Well, so much the better. Wait here a moment.” 

He arose and went behind the screen, where, just^in the 
doorway, the secretary was sitting. He did not need to speak, 
for the old man held out to him a slip of paper, upon which 
was written, It is the woman beyond a doubt.” 

Ferrars nodded and went back to his place. 

I am going to put you in new quarters,” he said, coolly, 
taking up his hat. “ Madam Van Horn’s shop must close for 
the present. When this murderer is arrested you will become 
a valuabld witness, and you Mull do well to turn State’s ev- 
idence. Otherwise, it may fare ill with you. Come, Madam, 
no repining at fate. When you dragged Bettie Gage, the 
Widow Holly’s black-eyed girl, and Deacon Sharp’s Mary 
away from South Brandon, a few years ago, you never antici- 
pated this. Now, did yon ?” 

He was busy with hat and gloves as he spoke, and he ut- 
tered the last words as he unlocked the door. 

I must leave you for a little time,” he continued. It’s 
for your own comfort that I go. Content yourself. Madam.” 

He bowed and went out, locking the door behind him, and 
seeming oblivious to the fact that h^e left her pale as ashes, 
and trembling in every limb. 

Left alone, the look of terror slowly turned to resentment, 
and she began to look about her. She sprang up and began 
to move about tlie room. She went to the windows, drew aside 
the curtains, peered out into the growing darkness, and tried 
their fastenings. Then, with a sniff, she went to the door of 
entrance. Fora moment she bent down and examined the 


ferrars declares his opinion. 


495 


lock. Puttiog her hand in her pocket, she drew forth a bunch 
of keys and began trying them. One, two, three keys were 
tried and found useless, and she was about to test the fourth. 
If I were you, I wouldn’t do that,” said a voice behind 

her. 

She turned sharply and confronted the secretary, who 
bowed and quietly took the keys from her hand. 

Who are you ?” she asked, wrathfully. 

?” he said. Is it possible you have forgotten me ? My 
name is Murtagh. We had the pleasure of meeting, years ago 
— have you forgotten ? — at South Brandon.” 


CHAPTER LXVIII. 

FERRARS DECLARES HIS OPINION. 

That night, at a late hour, Ferrars and Mr. Talfourd 
awaited the coming of Captain Connors, who arrived finally, 
an hour behind the time appointed, and who showed, as he 
seated himself near them, signs of considerable haste, anxiety 
and excitement. 

I’m glad you have called a council tonight,” he said to 
Ferrars. I suppose it is something important, but I wish 
you would l.et me unburden myself before we begin.” He 
looked quickly from one to the other now. It won’t take 
long.” 

Proceed,” said Ferrars, who was looking very grave and 
somewhat weary. 


496 


A LOST WITNESS. 


First, then, Cousin has i)aul me a visit, very much as/ou 
predicted. He talked a good deal of the murder, and resents 
the idea of its being Quinlan who did it.” 

Yes,” assented Ferrars, as if he had expected this. 

He dwelt for some time upon Fabrice, and the probabil- 
ity of lier guilt. He believes in it. He hinted that he would 
not mind lending a hand again if only to help unearth her.” 

He is very good,” said Ferrars, grimly. How did he 
appear to you ?” 

Ho you mean in person, or — ” 

In every way. Was he his usual self? the Cousin you 
have known ?” 

Not he. The fellow has ‘ gone oflP terribly in looks. He 
seems preoccupied and nervous.” 

“ I dare say. What was the object of his visit ?” 

He didn’t name one. I think he wanted to learn some- 
thing of our progress, wanted to post up a little. Of course, 
I had nothing to tell him.” 

That fellow must be a queer combination,” said Mr. Tal- 
fourd, speaking for the first time. I’ve met him once or twice 
at Mrs. Volney’s. I don’t quite understand his intimacy there.” 
He broke off and glanced at Ferrars, who did not speak but 
seemed to be thinking — intently. 

I’ve had a visit from the Coroner, too. Those ^Star 
Agency’ fellows are flying high and urging him to take up the 
case again.” Here he turned squarely upon Ferrars. I’ll 
tell it all in a nutshell,” he said. My information came 
through my men, who had been looking after Quinlan and the 
^ Star’ fellows ; and the Coroner’s story verifies their reports. 
It appears that they began by shadowing Quinlan, and they 
sent to London for all manner of information.” 

Yes,” said Ferrars. “ Go on.” 


FERRARS DECLARES HIS OPINION. 


497 


^^AYell, in this way they struck upon a new trail. They 
found that there was a young Englishman who was greatly en- 
amored of Hortense Novalis, at the time of her London debut. 
He was wihl about her, so the story goes, but the atfair was 
broken off by his friends. Well, it appears that the young fel- 
low has followed her to this city. He got here, they pretend 
to say, at about tlie time of the murder. The ^ Stars’ are look- 
ing after him hot-footed. They have theorized themselves, and 
the Coroner too, I fancy, into the belief that it was a case of 
jealousy. They say that Quinlan denies all knowledge of him ; 
and that he, the Englishman, is never seen upon the streets, 
except in a carriage or mounted ; that he is a favorite in cer- 
tain society, but avoids all crowds and actsqueerly altogether. 
What’s the matter?” 

It was a sudden movement upon the part of Talfourd senior, 
which called out this abrupt question. The face of this gen- 
tleman had turned scarlet, and he went off into a sudden fit of 
coughing. But Ferrars was as calm as possible. 

Do you mean that they have cast an eye upon Wyntoun 
he asked, quietly. 

Pshaw ! No ; it’s the other swell — Barham. They are 
shadowing him closely.” 

Gracious goodness !” blurted out Talfourd jpere, now quite 
recovered from his fit of coughing. Why, Lord Barham, 
when he is in town, is my guest.” 

I know it.” 

There was a moment of profound silence. Then Ferrars 
spoke. 

You say that the ‘ Star’ people are urging the Coroner to 
re-open the investigation. Is he likely to be influenced by 
them ?” 


498 


A LOST WITNESS. 


I think SO. Of course, I might interfere. Fm only wait- 
ing for the word.’^ 

Gentlemen,’’ said Ferrars, gravely, this news is very op- 
portune. It (jonfirms me in the decision I have made today. 
It is time to act. But in order to act to any purpose, I must 
have your lively co-operation. And, before you can give it, 
you must hear the result of my six or seven weeks of burrow- 
ing. I am going to take you over the ground as I have been 
over it, from my point of view. I shall have to go back to the 
beginning, and I hope you can hear me patiently. My rehearsal 
may weary you, and I am quite sure it will surprise you.” 

Captain Connors started and jerked his chair nearer to that 
occupied by Ferrars. Mr. Talfourd settled himself in a com- 
fortable attitude. 

You may wonder a little, at this moment, why Mr. Max 
Talfourd and Sir Felix are not with us here. You will know 
soon why it is best that they should not be. I wish to be as 
brief as possible, and so I will not dwell upon details. You 
both are aware tliat I came to New York upon the very ur- 
gent request of Sir Felix Wyntoun, and to serve Mr. Max 
Talfourd.” 

Of course,” said Captain Connors, while Mr. Talfourd 
simply nodded. 

Now, I ask you to keep this in mind. Before calling upon 
you. Captain, I was put in possession of such facts as were 
then known concerning the missing girl and the manner of her 
disappearance. Upon being presented to you, you kindly gave 
me all the information in your possession. Just as we were 
about to enter upon a grave discussion of the pros and cons oi 
the business, a messenger comes, breathless and excited, and 
you are informed that the lost is found,” 


FERRARS DECLARES HIS OPINION. 


499 


I recall that occurrence distinctly/’ said the Captain, drily. 

And so do I. But for a different reason. Every man, 
they say, has his hobby, and every detective, they say, has his 
system, his fad. Some men claim to be physiognomists, and 
to read guilt or innocence in a face. Some men may do this ; 
to a certain extent, I believe, it can be done. But that is not 
my fad. To me the human face tells little or nothing ; but 
the human voice — ah ! there you have my fad. I do believe 
in the human voice as an indication of character, an index to 
feelings, moods, and more. When your messenger came, to 
tell of Miss Paget’s sudden return, I did not see him, I did 
not, of course, know who he was. But in his voice I heaid 
fear, anxiety — that Leah Paget’s coming was not a triumph, 
but a terror to him. Judge, then, of my surprise upon being 
told that this agitated messenger was an assistant in the case 
so suddenly brought to a climax ; that he was a clever re- 
porter, a friend to Captain Connors, a stranger to the Pagets, 
an amateur detective. Now, Captain, consult your memory. 
When you and I went over the Leah Paget case together, we 
differed as to the value of the work your men had done. Be- 
cause they liad not found Miss Paget, you argued that they had 
accomplished nothing; while I — well, if I had taken up the 
work where I found it then, I must have succeeded. Your 
men had traversed the ground, scaled the rocks, let down the 
bars, yes, and opened the door. I had only to walk in.” 

By Jove !” burst out Mr. Talfourd, I would like to hear 
your idea — how you would have accomplished this walk-over?” 

It’s very simple,” said Ferrars. If you could go into 
the case as I did, you would see it as I do. These reports 
convinced me that Miss Paget had not left the city, had not 
been abducted for ransom, had not made way with herself. 


500 


A LOST WITNESS. 


and had not been murdered. But that was not all. Before 
I had finished reviewing the operations of the Captaiii^s detect- 
ives, I was quite convinced that there was a flaw in the work, 
a broken link in the chain.” 

AYhat do you mean ?” asked Connors, quickly. 

I mean this ; Among all that mass of good and faithful 
work done, there was one bit of very bad work, one weak 
point, where a little pressure, a little more light upon it, would 
have changed everything. In short, I felt sure that one of 
your men was trifling, was not running true.” 

Why didn’t you say so ?” asked Connors, sharply. 

^‘Because I expected to take the case up, and niy first busi- 
ness would have been to find the man who washedging. You 
would have been enlightened then. But we will not linger 
over this dead issue. When your Mr. Cousin came with his 
announcement, and I learned that he had been working upon 
the case, I felt sure that I had found my man.” 

Captain Connors muttered something that sounded like an 
anathema upon himself, but Ferrars went on without heeding 
him. 

Now, sirs, please note this ; I was still pondering over 
this queer case, and my mind was full of its details. I was a 
stranger to all New York, and could have no prejudices, but 
names were firmly fixed in my mind from having read so much 
of them in those reports — ” 

What names ?” asked Connors, half bewildered. 

These : Leah Paget, Max Talfourd, Frederick Quinlan. 
With these names fresh in my memory, I went with Captain 
Connors to the scene of the tragedy in the Dresden Flats. We 
need not dwell upon that. You know it all. Fancy me, now, 
coming into the presence of that dead actress, gorgeous even in 


FERRARS DECLARES HIS OPINION. 


501 


death — I knew the woman ; I had seen her in London — but I 
was not there to tell what I knew. While overlooking the 
disordered rooms, searching for a clue to the crime, I was say- 
ing to myself that this was a strange thing, iny being brought 
there to see that dangerous woman thus — 1, who had known 
her in life.” 

Oh !” broke involuntarily from the lips of both his lis- 
teners. 

^^Yes, Captain, your ‘ Star Agency’ was rightly informed. 
It was Lord Louis Barham who came so near wrecking his life 
for the sake of Hortense Novalis, and it was I who extricated 
him and prevailed upon her to leave London.” 

^^By Jove !” cried Talfourd again. It was his favorite ex- 
pletive. 

Well, there were other odd things in store for me. Al- 
most the first name I heard in connection with Hortense was 
that of Frederick Quinlan. And then — you know how it came 
about- — there in the possession of the dead w^oman, or so it 
seemed, we found a blood-stained ktter — a love-letter, signed 
Max. Beside it, as if to leave no doubt as to the identity of the 
writer, was a picture — the picture of Max Talfourd. To com- 
plete this amazing series of coincidences, an envelope, corre- 
sponding in size and texture with the paper upon which the letter 
was written, was found in the grate. The envelope bore the name 
of Leah Paget. Is it any wonder that I, with these facts be- 
fore me, should say to myself : In the disappearance of Miss 
Paget, and the murder of Hortense Novalis and her maid, 
there is certainly a very close connection. Two courses were 
before me. I could follow up the investigation already half 
done, and, in spite of Miss Paget’s return, ferret out the secret 
of her absence. Or I could begin here, and find out who 


502 


A LOST WITNESS. 


killed Horteiise Novalis. At whichever end I began, the re- 
sult would be the same. There is but one solution for both 
mysteries.’^ 

Great Heavens Mr. Talfourd cried. Is it possible ! 
Can you mean tiiat Leah Paget — 

Ferrars stopped him by a gesture. 

Patience, sir,’^ he said, gently. Eemember, I had just 
been hearing the story of the search for Miss Paget. Names, 
dates, everything, was fresh in my mind. Two things were 
overlooked, in the haste of that investigation ; at least it would 
seem so.’^ He turned upon Captain Connors. When I 
found that letter beneath the .pillow, I observed the date.” 

“ Eh?” 

The date of that letter and the date of Leah Paget’s disap- 
pearance were the same.” 

Blockhead !” cried the Captain. I was a blockhead !” 

Not at all. Captain. I did not call your attention to it, 
that was all. You were quick enough to note other things.” 

‘‘Yes,” assented the Captain, in fierce self-scorn, “I was 
able to note that Leah Paget’s home-coming was upon the 
date of the murder.” 

“ When I found this note or letter,” resumed Ferrars, ad- 
dressing himself now to Mr. Talfourd, “ my first thought was 
of your son. 1 had seen him, and I considered myself, in a 
measure, bound to serve him if possible. Miss Paget was his 
fiancee. With that letter and picture in my possession, my 
position was strangely unpleasant. To give myself a little 
time for thought, and in the hope that I might by some bit 
of good luck get a glimpse of Miss Paget herself, I set out 
for their house, ostensibly to warn Miss Paget. On the way 
I reasoned with myself thus ; If Leah Paget is guilty, oi* im- 


FERRARS DECLARES HIS OPINION. 


503 


plicated in any way, my warning will startle her into some act 
of self-betrayal, and then I shall know what to do. But on 
that day nothing but the unexpected occurred. I found that 
Miss Paget had returned indeed, and that she had simply refused 
to explain her absence. It was an evil day for Miss Page!, 
and I should probably have been forced to make known all my 
thoughts and discoveries to the Captain here, if Mr. Quinlan 
had not thrown himself into the breach with characteristic 
recklessness and haste. After looking him over carefully, I 
decided to accept him, as he seemed to expect. If Mr. Quin- 
lan considered himself a fit subject for suspicion, there must 
be something to justify such suspicion. I would accept him. 
It would give me time. It would save Miss Paget, perhaps, 
if she were innocent. It could not harm Quinlan, if he were 
guilty.” 

Do you mean to say,” burst out Captain Connors, that 
you never believed Quinlan guilty?” 

I never believed Mr. Quinlan guilty, sir, not for one mo- 
ment.” 

My God !” It was Mr. Talfourd’s cry. Did you be- 
gin by suspecting my son ?” 

No, sir. Neither first nor last did I suspect Max Tal- 
fourd.” 

In the name of all that’s mysterious then,” urged Con- 
nors, what did you think ? Whom did you suspect ?” 

‘‘ Before the Coroner had opened his inquiry — before we 
had finished our search of the rooms, in fact — I had formed 
the opinion which I hold at this moment. There was ev- 
idence, circumstantial evidence, against Frederick Quinlan and 
against Max Talfourd, But I could not accept it because—” 

Because — ?” 


504 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Because Horteiise Novalis was murdered by a woman.” 

Ah — horrible !” 

A woman !” Captain Connors bent eageily toward the 
detective. Ferrars,” he said, excitedly, are we to under- 
stand — do you mean to say that while we, you and I, were 
still searching the rooms, before the name of La Belle Fabrice 
was breathed to us, that you then decided it was a woman’s 
deed r 
I did.” 

The Captain fell back in his place. I’m all at sea,” he 
said. What kind of a dance have you been leading us ?” 


CHAPTER LXIX. 

THE LOST LINK. 

Captain,” said the detective, you are taking an oblique view 
of the alfair. Your thoughts went naturally from a bloody 
deed to a brutal assassin. I, who have very little to do with 
ordinary crime — that is, with these murders which are hap- 
pening every day ; which nine times out of ten are the deeds 
of tramps or other hardened wretches of the lower grade — I was 
not so ready. In fact, I followed my usual method in trying 
to keep my mind a blank, as to opinion, until I had looked about 
me.” 

True,” assented the Captain ; I never even thought of a 
woman as the possible guilty one.” 

Naturally .” 


THE LOST LINK. 


505 


But tell me : had you decided it was a woman’s work be- 
fore you found that letter ?” 

“ Yes. That letter, you must remember, Captain, bore no 
woman’s name. It was signed but not addressed. There was 
nothing to indicate that it was not meant for Hortense Nov- 
alis, until you found that envelope matching the paper and ad- 
dressed in the same hand.” 

True.” 

Now, go hack with me to the scene of the murder, and try 
to see it with my eyes. Here we find the beautiful woman, 
richly robed and gleaming with jewels, lying dead in the midst 
of lier splendor. All about her is confusion, wreck, the signs of 
a struggle fierce and desperate. From the condition of the two 
rooms, it must have begun in the inner one, and ended in the 
boudoir, wliere she was conquered and fell, struggling with her 
latest breath, her last atom of strength. Now, consider : Hor- 
tense Novalis was tall and lithe, but she was not muscular. 
Can you imagine her battling with a man like that? The ev- 
idences of the struggle were proof, to me, that victim and slayer 
were nearly matched in strength. Perhaps, Hortense may have 
been the stronger. I fancy so. But she was taken unawares, and 
the other struck with the strength born of fury, hatred, despera- 
tion. Would a man have battled so ? Frederick Quinlan is a 
trained athlete. So is Max Talfourd.” 

The father of Max shuddered. 

The hired assassin is usually chosen from the strong. A nd 
then, would a paid assassin do such work, and leave all that 
booty behind him ?” 

Not he,” said the Captain, })romptly, 

“ No. Men do not slay so. It was the work of a woman ; 
and a woman furious, desperate, maddened by some terrible 
fear, or dread, or wrong.” 


506 


A LOST WITNESS. 


My God r said Talfoiird. ‘‘ I can see it all ! You are 
right ; it must have been a woman.” 

Of course he's right. I can see it clearly, now,” cried 
Connors. Gad ! I'll resign tumorrow.' 

If you do,” said Ferrars, so will I. But let us get on 
and dispose of Mr. Quinlan at once.” 

By all means,” said Mr. Talfourd. 

Now, will you try to fancy my position. I have crossed 
the ocean to serve a fidend, to seek a lost sweetheart, and here 
I stand surrounded by death, mystery, tragedy. And the 
names of those I had hoped to serve, confront me in a new 
light. Here comes in the use of what, to the Captain, seemed 
useless — just time thrown away. I mean the records of the 
good work done by his men in the Leah Paget case. Thanks 
to those documents, instead of groping blindly, I have a clear 
and excellent point of view. Instead of beginning this new 
work at the beginning, I begin it in the middle. I do not 
need to . ask who is Quinlan. I know already, and all my 
knowledge is drawn from these reports. Standing beside the 
body of HortenseNovalis, I reason thus : Tlie slayer is a woman, 
and woman slays oftenestfrom motives of revenge or jealousy. 
Frederick Quinlan, a man of the world, a man likely to have 
been mixed up in many intrigues, is the friend of the dead 
woman. Now, if we can find anywhere a woman whom he 
has, perhaps, abandoned for the sake of Hortense Novalis, we 
have gone a long way toward solving the problem.” He looked 
from one to the other in silence for a moment. Gentlemen, 
there is no such woman to be found. That Frederick Quin- 
lan did not commit the murder, I was sure from the first. I 
was not sure that he did not instigate the deed, or, if he did 
not instigate, at least, held some knowledge or suspicion. But 


THE LOST LINK. 


507 


my doubts were soon set at rest. Quinlan, directly or indi- 
rectly, had no part nor lot in that murder.^^ 

And yet,’^ began Mr. Talfourd, he has borne the brunt 
of the suspicion, the public obloquy 

Ferrars threw back his head with an impatient gest- 
ure. 

Allow me to proceed,’’ he said. Quinlan saw readily 
that he, as the one most intimately associated with the dead 
girl, would naturally fall under suspicion, and knowing this 
he applied to me. Mr. Quinlan is by no means thin-skinned. 
He saw that notoriety was inevitable, but what then ? In one 
way or another, he has been courting notoriety of a certain 
sort, ever since he became a fully fledged worldling. The man 
has pride, and keen common-sense of a hardy sort. His 
yachts, his horses, his mistresses, have been the talk of the 
town. He did not mind, for a time, being a man suspected 
of murder. Only, he must be fully vindicated at the end. 
After a long interview with him, I decided to use him at need. 
To mislead the public, and while the eye of suspicion was oc- 
cupied with Quinlan and his probable guilt, I hoped to draw 
out the real criminal, who would probably be emboldened by 
the fact that the finger of suspicion was pointing another way. 
Besides, I wanted to gain time to study Max Talfourd and 
Leah Paget, and the murder of Hortense and the woman, Yir- 
ginie.” He paused a moment. 

Well,” said Captain Connors, did you find it, the miss- 
ing link?” 

I did.” 

Oh — what — who ?” 

‘^It is knowm,” said the detective, slowly — it is known to 
you by the name of Polly Cousin.” 


508 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Polly — Cousin T’ ejaculated Connors, in amazement. 

Aiul ihe woman ? You suspect some woman 

Suspect — I don’t know.” 

What ! You don’t know? Surely you have your eye 
upon some woman whom — ” 

“ I have my eye upon three women,” said Ferrars. 

And may we know — ” 

You may know very soon all that I know, but you must 
not ask for details and particulars now. I have an eye, first, 
upon Leah Paget.” 

Good Heavens !” cried Talfourd. You don’t believe her 
guilty?” 

Observe tliis: On a ceitain day and date, a young lady 
leaves her home. Upon this same day, a little earlier, a young 
man writes her a love-letter and sends her his picture. On that 
same day, later, he goes by appointment to the house of an ad- 
venturess. On a certain night this adventuress is murdered. 
On that same night, only an hour or so later, the young woman 
who went away so mysteriously, returns yet more mysteriously 
— comes back with sealed lips, refusing to speak of the weeks 
that have intervened since her going ; refusing to see her lover, 
and then seeing him to send him from her, to declare all at an 
end between them. Don’t you comprehend, my friends, that I 
must either doubt and hold this young woman under surveil- 
lance as a possible murderer, or, I must, in some way, clear up 
the mystery which envelopes these weeks of absence, whether 
she will or not ?” 

Can you ?” cried Talfourd senior. Can you do this ?” 

I have spent some time and labor trying,” said the detect- 
ive, grimly. And then, as if to prevent further interruption or 
questioning, he hurried on. “ Next, there is La Belle Fabrice.” 


THE LOST LINK. 


509 


Poor Wyntoun V’ fell involuntarily from the lips of Mr. 
Talfourd. 

Yes. It has been rather hard upon Sir Felix/’ said the de- 
tective. But yon heard the evidence at the inquest. We 
must know why she so loathed and dreaded the nameofHor- 
tense Novalis ; what took her to the Dresden Flats on that 
evening ; and why she was so anxious to have tiie thing con- 
signed to oblivion. Above all, we need to know why she left 
her Manager in the lurch at the last moment. Now, I’ll tell 
you the little I chance to know.” 

He told them of the meeting of Quinlan and Sir Felix, in 
the apartments of Fabrico, on the day before the departure of 
Leah Paget was first made public ; how Fabrice had fainted, 
with a morning paper in her hand ; how, at the request of 
Fabrice, Sir Felix had ])resented her to Mr. Clarkson, the 
lawyer. And then he told the story of South Brandon, and 
the strange disappearance of three young girls, and then on 
and on until all was told that in any way concerned La Belle 
Fabrice. 

It was growing day-light when at last their counsel broke 
up, and the faces of all looked weary, anxious, and very 
grave. 

I believe we understand each other now,” said Ferrars, as 
they stood for a moment at the door. 

Ido, I think,” said Captain Connors. You may safely 
leave my share of the work to me.” 

And I think Ido, also,” said Mr. Talfourd, and wish 
with all my heart it were well over.” 

Amen to that !” said Ferrai’S. 

Early in the morning, Mr. Talfourd tapped sharply at his 
son’s door, and was promptly admitted. 


510 


A LOST WITNESS. 


I have a note for you/’ the father said. It’s from Fer- 
rars.” 

“ Ah !” Max promptly broke the seal. 

‘^Is Sir Felix in the house?” 

Yes, and sound asleep, no doubt. Why, what is this?” 

Eh ?” Mr. Talfourd did not seem over-curious. 

‘^Ferrars says he has reasons for believing that La Belle 
Fabrice went from this oily to a place called South Brandon, 
atwo hundred mile ride from here,andhe wants us — Sir Felix 
and myself — to go there at once, by this morning’s express.” 

Well ?” 

We can go and return, he says, within three days. He 
adds further instructions in case we find Fabrice.” 

Shall you go, my son?” 

Go ? Certainly ; and so will Sir Felix. I’ll stir him up 
at once. Train goes at eight o’clock, he says.” 

As the young man began a hasty toilet, the old man went 
slowly and thoughtfully toward his own room.” 

It’s a rather grim practical joke,” he said to himself, but 
better so, better so. Before they come back I hope this wretched 
business will be well over.” 


CHAPTER LXX 

NICKERSON. 

Near the fine building where Captain Connors held sway, 
stands a dingy pile, as nondescript in use as in appearance. It 
is a House of Detention ; a place where unwilling witnesses, 
persons under suspicion, and a variety of small offenders are 


NICKEKSON. 


511 


housed and fed at the expense of the city. It is in charge 
of a matron and an assistant, and it was here that Ferrars 
had brought the old woman who had been identified by Mur- 
tagh as one of the figures in the South Brandon mystery, leav- 
ing to Captain Connors the task of looking after her as seemed 
needful. 

The Captain’s method was peculiar. He sent for the ma- 
tron, who seemed quite at ease in his presence, and to under- 
stand him perfectly. 

I want you to take special charge of that woman,” 
the Captain said. She’s an old fox and needs delicate hand- 
ling. I want you to make friends with her, to sympathize 
with her.” 

How far ?” 

Oh ! that’s business-like. Well, I think she’ll be likely 
to want to send a letter to some one, or perhaps to see a 
friend. She may even wish to bribe you into letting her es- 
cape.” 

^^Well, shall Ido it?” 

At the right time, perhaps ; and after you have reported 
to me.” 

All right,” said the matron, briskly ; ‘‘I’ll manage it.” 

When they found time to compare notes, days afterward, it 
was discovered that neither Ferrars, Connors, or Mr. Talfourd 
had sought their pillows after the breaking-up of their late 
conference, and this fact may help to account for the surpris- 
ingly early hour at which Captain Connors called upon the 
matron in charge of that unique and dismal hostelry, the 
House of Detention. 

“ My goodness !” grumbled the matron, hastening into his 


512 


A LOST WITNESS. 


presence after some moments of delay, I hope you didn^t sit 
up all night jest for the fun of routing me out at this unearthly 
hour. Why, it ainh seven yet.” 

I’m regulated by the moon, just at present, Mrs. Broot,” 
said the Captain, amiably. How about our old woman ?” 

“ Mrs. Hai ris ?” 

Yes, it' that’s her name.” 

It’s what she calls herself. It’s all in train.” 

‘‘Well, be on the lookout this morning. Can’t you tell 
her you’re willing to take her note yourself?” 

“ Why, no ; ’twouldn’t do at all. I’ve told her I’m waiting 
for a niece of mine, or one of my nephews, that I can trust, 
and that live a good way olit. It wouldn’t do at all,” with 
a sly leer, “ to let her think I could leave my post, or that I’d 
trust any one about here.” 

“Have your niece or nephew in waiting at nine o’clock 
sharp.” 

“ All right. Captain.” 

“ And I hope that a person will visit her,” 

“ So does she, sir.” 

“ Ah ! Good ; very good ! If this visitor comes, you un- 
derstand — ” 

“ Oh, perfectly ; I’ve got it all planned, sir.” 

“Very well, Mrs. Broot,” he said. And he muttered as 
he turned away, “ I only hope it won’t fall through.” 

For half an hour after Mr. Talfourd and Captain Connors 
took leave of him, Francis Ferrars paced the floor with clouded 
brow, and sombre eyes fixed upon nothing outward. Then he 
sat down and wrote the following note: 

Miss Leah Paget : The time is at hand. Be read}^ for any strange 
disclosure that may come today. Above all, remember your promise ; 


NICKERSON. 


513 


be calm. And remember this also : To spare the one who has wronged 
you will be to injure the innocent and the wronged. If your enemy is 
revealed to you, denounce that enemy at once, wherever you are and in 
the presence of whoever may be at hand. Above all, do not refuse 
yourself to any who may call, and be in the drawing-room early. F.F. 

The hour was not late enough to send this note, and Fer- 
rars had just settled himself to wait for one more, more reason- 
able, when a sharp rap at his door brought him to his feet. 

Who knocks?’^ he asked. 

“ Nickerson,” said a low voice outside. 

Instantly the door was flung open and Nickerson entered. 

Nickerson !” said Ferrars, in surprise. What has hap- 
pened ?” 

Nickerson smiled. Nothing disastrous. We have re- 
turned to the city, that’s all.” 
a We?” 

Yes ; all of us — La Belle Fabrice, Madam Congreve, and 
the maid.” He came a step nearer. Why, sir, what’s 
wrong? You don’t look pleased.” 

“ I’m not sure that I am pleased. However, sit down, man. 
What brought them, do you know ?” 

I think it was a letter from Clarkson, the lawyer.” 

Ah, yes.” Ferrars flung himself into a chair, and Nick- 
erson at once followed his example. Where are they now ?” 

Clarkson was waiting for them at the station, and took 
them at once to his house.” 

He did ! Well, that tells us something. We have had 
an eye on Clarkson.” 

So I supposed.” 

Do you know what they intend to do ?” 

I managed to overhear a little. Fabrice is going to the 
Chief of Police in the morning.” 

‘‘Alone?” 


514 


A LOST WITNESS. 


“No; under Clarkson’s escort.” Nickerson got up sud- 
denly. “ Shull I go to my post ?” 

“No/’ jumping up and beginning to move about rapidly. 
“ Go at once to Captain Connors ; he left here less than an 
hour ago. You’ll find him in his office, I dare say. Tell him 
just what you have told me, and say that he must manage for 
me to see and hear his interview with the lady. When you 
have seen the Captain, get some rest. We’re trying to draw 
this business to a close, Nickerson.” 

“ I fancied so, from your last letter,” said Nickerson, gravely. 
And after a moment of hesitation, he asked, “ Are you likely 
to be successful, sir ?” 

Ferrars’ face was grave, 

“ I hardly know how to answer you, Nickerson.. If we do 
succeed, we shall owe much of it to your good work.” 

“ I don’t plume myself much on such work as I’ve done of 
late,” said Nickerson, ruefully. 

“ I don’t mean that,” interposed Ferrars, “although you 
did well in South Brandon. I’m thinking of your work in 
the Paget case.” 

Over Nickerson’s face swept a hot flush. “ Oh, that !” he 
said, in a tone of disgust. “ I didn’t know you were chaffing.” 

“ Nor am I. When I have time I will convince you. What 
you did in that matter has helped me to success in this. Wa- 
ters, too, has lent a hand.” 

“ You forget Cousin.” 

“ Nickerson,” said Ferrars, slowly, and laying a hand on 
his shoulder, “ but for this Mr. Cousin you would have found 
Leah Paget. Come, let us go.” 


COUSIN TAKES THE ALARM. 


515 


CHAPTER LXXI. 

COUSIN TAKES THE ALARM. 

At half-past seven Max Talfourd tapped on his father’s 
door. He was equipped for a journey ; he held in his hand 
an open railway guide, and he looked perplexed. 

So you are going ?” said Mr. Talfourd. 

Of course I am going. But Ferrai s is not as definite as 
usual ; he says South Brandon, but not what route.” 

His father caught the book from his hand. 

The eight o’clock train, isn’t it?” beginning to turn the 
leaves. 

Yes, but — ” 

Hadn’t you better look for a train leaving any station at 
that hour, that has South Brandon or Brandon on its station 
list ?” 

Of course,” putting out his hand for the guide. ‘^I’m 
only half awake yet. I had found two or three Brandons, and 
felt mixed up in consequence. If you go to Sara’s tell them — ” 

I am going to take your mother there today. I’ll tell 
them that you have gone out of town.” 

Sir Felix came down the hall at this, watch in hand. I 
should say we hadn’t much time,” he said. When they were 
well out of the house, he added, Your governor looks glum, 
Talfourd. Never saw him look so sober. Don’t he like this ?” 

I’m sure I don’t know, my dear fellow. I don’t half 
like it myself.” 


516 


A LOSl^ WlT'NESS. 


A couple hours later, Mr. Talfourd and his wife stood upon 
their own threshold awaiting the tardy coming of their car- 
riage. Just as it appeared, two men, plainly dressed and 
quiet in appearance, halted before them and bowed respect- 
fully. 

Pardon me, is this Mr. Talfourd ?” asked one. 

It is.’^ 

I believe you have a guest in your house 

Two of thern.^^ 

A guest named Sir Felix Barham ?” 

Ah r 

Excuse me, but it is necessary that we should see him. 
If you will ask him to step to the door, we should rather not 
intrude upon you.” 

Unfortunately,” said Mr. Talfourd, with a touch of as- 
perity, Sir Felix is not in.” He turned and put out his 
hand to his wife, who stood a step above him. Will you be 
so good as to stand aside while I put my wife in the carriage ?” 
When Mrs. Talfourd was seated, he turned again toward the 
two men. Is there anything further, gentlemen ?” 

Will you tell us where the gentleman may be found ?” 

“ I think Sir Felix might be found, at this moment, in a 
railway carriage. He left town, in company with my son, 
early this morning. I cannot tell you the direction of their 
travels, but they expect to be gone about three days, perhaps 
four.” 

He had finished his sentence with a foot upon the carriage- 
step and he signalled to the coachman, who drove rapidly 
away, before the seekers after Lord Barham could utter a 
word to detain him. 

My dear,” said Mrs. Talfourd. didn’t you observe 


COUSIN TAKES ALARM. 


517 


that the man made a mistake ? He asked for Sir Felix 
Barham ?” 

I am quite aware of it, wife.^’ 

It must liave been Lord Barham that they wished to 
see ?” 

Probably. Didn’t you observe, my dear, that I was care- 
ful to give them information about Sir Felix only ?” 

Mrs. Talfourd pondered a moment. After all, they may 
have meant Wyntoun instead of Barham. They have con- 
fused the names.” 

Yes ; I am feeling very much obliged to them.” 

But why, dear ? Who were they, do you think ?” 

I think that they were detectives.” 

Detectives ?” 

Yes ; detectives from the ^ Star Detective Bureau.’ ” 

A little later, on this same eventful morning, a small group 
were gathered in Sara Volney’s luxurious rear drawing-room. 
The day, toward noon hour, had grown gloomy, and, although 
it was fairly summer time, there was a chill in the air which 
made the crackling wood-fire, that Mrs. Volney had ordered 

more for cheer than warmth,” very cozy and welcome. 

In a low lounging-chair, a little apart from the others, sat 
Lord Louis Barham, and, in spite of the fact just made known 
to him by his host, that two anxious men had been in search 
of him, he looked very composed and comfortable. 

Mr. Talfourd and his wife were sitting near Leah Paget, 
who was standing beside the mantle ; and Mrs. Volney, sitting 
close to Mrs. Talfourd, was giving that lady all her attention, 
or so it seemed. 

Leah was looking very grave, but quite at ease, and she was 


518 


A LOST WITNESS. 


giving her fullest Jittention to the conversation of Lord Bar- 
ham and Mr. Talfourd, when the door opened and Mr. Cousin 
was announced. 

There was a little stir.about the grate, and, as Cousin slowly 
traversed the long front drawing-room, Mrs. Volney arose and 
went quickly to meet him, stopping just over the threshold of 
the inner room, and beyond the hearing of the others, if one 
spoke in a low tone. 

Cousin’s face looked worn and anxious, and, as she put out 
her hand to him, Mrs. Yolney said, softly, What is it? 
You look really ill.” 

I am very anxious.” He glanced toward the group be- 
yond. Contrive to give me ten minutes alone with you.” 

Soon — I will manage it. Is it — ” She broke off and 
looked at him keenly and then her face paled. 

Hush !” he said. Some one in yonr house is being 
watched. Sara, you must get rid of that Leah !” Then he 
made toward the others, who had not grown quite accustomed 
to his frequent presence here, uttering some commonplaces, 
with an effort to appear at ease which was not a success. 

As the stream of talk flowed on, somewhat sluggishly. 
Cousin murmured something about too much heat, and walked 
carelessly into the front drawing-room, taking his stand near 
one of the windows. In a moment. Lord Barham followed 
him, dropping into a seat by a second window and then push- 
ing his chair back into the shadow of the curtain. 

Leah Paget, who was a keen observer, had noticed that Lord 
Barham was seldom talkative in the presence of Cousin, and 
that he always seemed to avoid a too close proximity. She had 
noted the movements of both, and watched them, after a listless 
fashion, as they kept their places at the window. 



What is it? you look keally ill.” Page 518. 


51 » 




620 


A LOST WITNESS. 


They were not inclined to talk, slie observed. Suddenly she 
saw Lord Barham draw back from the window, and address 
some remark to Cousin, who withdrew his gaze from the street, 
and fixed it upon the speaker. A moment latei’, a servant en- 
tered and said something in a low tone to Mrs. Yolney, who 
looked up in seeming surprise, hesitated a moment, and then 
arose, with a word of apology to Mrs. Talfourd, and lefc the 
room. 

A little later, Mrs. Yolney came back, and going up to Mrs. 
Talfourd, said, in her lowest, sweetest, most persuasive tone ; 

Will you pardon me for doing a very rude thing ? One 
of my pensioners, a poor old woman, has sent for me. She is 
in some sort of trouble or distress, and begs me to come to her 
at once. I cannot make out anything more from the messen- 
ger, but the place is not far away. I feel as if I must go to 
her.’’ 

By all means !” interposed Mrs. Talfourd, and the rest 
echoed her words. 

You will wait forme? You will stop for luncheon?” 
Mrs. Yolney urged. ^Mf yon refuse, I shall not go.” 

^^My dear Sara, we are not strangers,” said Mr. Talfourd. 

There need be no ceremony with us. Yes, go ; go at once.” 

And so, after a few more words and pi’etty apologies, Sara 
Yolney went. Lord Barham and Cousin, who had both le- 
turned to their windows, saw her go swiftly down the vvalk, out 
at the gate and around'the corner, following closely in the foot- 
steps of a girl whose figure, as it moved in advance of the lady, 
they could hardly see. They turned at the corner, and then both 
watchers caught a glimpse of a girl, small of stature, clad like 
a nurse-maid, and wearing her long flaxen hair in two braided 
tails down her back. As if to give them a better glimpse of her 


COUSIN TAKES THE ALARM. 


521 


figure, for her face was veiled, the girl paused exactly at the 
corner, turned slowly around and looked back, standing thus, 
it seemed, for a full minute. 

A sharp exclamation broke from Cousin’s lips, and Lord 
Barham turned quickly, to see that he was hurrying toward 
the door, and that his face, already pale and worn, was now 
absolutely ghasily. 

What — aw, weally, my dear fel — ” Here Barham broke 
off abruptly and sprang back to his place by the window, for 
Cousin had shut the door between himself and all question or 
remonstrance, quite as if Lord Louis Barham had been only a 
common and somewhat impertinent mortal. 

Ill another instant the outer door closed heavily, as though 
shut by a hasty and nervous hand, and Lord Barham, from 
his post at the window, saw Cousin hurrying down the paved 
walk and out at the gate. Then, with another swift spring. 
Lord Barham had crossed to a side window, which afforded a 
view of the street down which Mrs. Volney and her guide 
had turned. At a little distance from the corner, a cab stood 
in waiting, and a second glance showed him a glimpse of a 
flowing black garment, as Mrs. Volney seated herself within, 
and then a whisk of two flaxen braids, as the maid followed. 
As the cab drove rapidly away, he saw Cousin come swiftly 
around the corner, stop short at the sight of the receding cab, 
look about him anxiously as if hoping to find another vehicle 
at hand, lift a clinched hand as if in a gesture of rage or de- 
spair, and turn a pale flice toward the house he had just left. 
Then he set off at a rapid pace, not in the direction taken by 
Mrs. Volney’s cab, which was already out of sight amid a 
crowd of vehicles, but straight on, in the way that led to the 
nearest cab-stand. 


522 


A LOST WITNESS. 


When he had seen Cousin out of sight, Lord Barham re- 
turned to the inner room, and was at once conscious that Leah, 
still standing upon the hearth rug, was watching him intently, 
and with a look of surprise gathering in her face. 

In the meantime. Cousin, hurrying town-ward, had hailed 
an empty cab, flung himself within, and gasped to the driver, 
To the Star Detective Agency, and be quick 


CHAPTER LXXII. 

LEAH SPEAKS. 

The hasty departure of Cousin scarcely drew a comment 
from the loungers in Mrs. Volney’s drawing-room, and the 
conversation flagged somewhat, and finally fell altogether into 
the hands of the ladies. 

Both felt, and had reason to feel, quite at home in Sara Vol- 
ney^s house, and it is probable the two would have exchanged 
a few confidences concerning Mrs. Volney’s strange and un- 
accountable friendship for this plain-faced young reporter who 
was nobody in particular, and not even in society. Indeed, 
such thoughts were flitting through Mrs. Talfourd’s head and 
checked her speech for a moment. Then she noticed that Lord 
Barham had taken up a handful of photographs of places,^^ 
and that Mr. Talfourd and he had begun a low-toned conver- 
sation upon tlie subject of architecture. It was a subject in 
which she felt a keen interest, and the lady made a sign to 


LEAH SPEAKS. 


523 


Leah, and drew her chair nearer to the table where Lord Bar- 
ham stood. 

Speaking of city homes and old houses, said Mr. Tal- 
foiird, with his face turned toward the street, I suppose this 
house is about the oldest in this vicinity. It has been in the 
Volney family for three generations. I thought it must come 
down or be renovated when Gregory Volney ’s father took pos- 
session, for it had been a sort of unlucky place for years, and 
still more gruesome associations were added in the earlier years 
of his tenancy. But no. When he was free to do so, he just 
closed the place and went abroad, leaving Gregory in school, 
just at the age when he needed home training most.” 

^MVhy, Mr. Talfourd,” said Leah, smiling, one would 
suppose the house was haunted.” 

My dear,” — Mr. Talfourd turned his gaze upon Leah for 
just a moment — for ten years this house stood with locked 
doors and boarded-up windows, and it was called the ‘ Plaunted 
House’ by all the neighborhood.” 

‘‘ Mercy !” said Leah, I never heard of that.” 

You were rather young in those days, my dear,” smiled 
Mrs. Talfourd, and she added : '‘You know that Gregory, dur- 
ing his years of ownership, never really lived in the house, 
and did no more than to open the windows and make it look 
a little less uninviting from the outside. To save his credit as 
a property owner, and for the sake of the street, he used to say.” 

Yes,” said Leah, thoughtfully, " I think I remember some- 
thing of that.” 

Lord Barham moved back from the table, where he had al- 
ready deposited the handful of photographs, and took out his 
watch. 

Mr Talfourd got up and walked once or twice the length 


524 


A LOST WITNESS. 


of the room. Mrs. Talfourd alone remained sitting, and a 
long moment of silence followed Leah’s words. It was Lord 
Barham who spoke first. 

Aw — I didn’t fancy you kept much of that sort of thing 
here — haunted houses, you know ; and all that. How came 
it to be haunted — weally ?” 

“I’ll tell you. Mr. Talfourd turned in his promenade and 
halted a little behind Leah, who was standing beside his wife’s 
chair and directly facing Lord Barham, but with Mrs. Tal- 
fourd and the little table between them. “ I’ll tell you. The 
story has not been circulated much for a good many years ; 
people do not seek to perpetuate family misfortunes. Greg- 
ory Voluey’s mother was a very strange woman in her best 
days, and she died a maniac. At first she was not difficult to 
deal with, and she was kept at home, with a trained nurse, 
whom she considered a maid. After a time she began to grow 
violent, and, to drown her screams, which at times were hor- 
rible to hear, Volney evoked from his brain a novel scheme. 
The mansard was in one big bare room, and a large square in 
the center was built up ; the walls were padded thickly, and a 
big square cut out of the roof, in which a skylight was set. 
As the ceiling was none too high, the skyliglit was elevated a 
foot and a half or so, and a net-work of slender iron bars was 
arranged below it. Then, upon the roof a fanciful railing was 
arranged about the skylight, and carried up padoga-fashion, so 
that from the outside it had the appearance of a small observa- 
tory. The observatory, viewed from the street, is in the cen- 
ter of the roof, but the room in not squarely under it.” 

“ How— how — is the skylight placed ?” asked Leah, almost 
gaspingly, and clutching hard at the back of Mrs. Talfourd’s 
chair with both hands. 


LEAH SPEAKS. 


625 


At the front of the room, directly above the door. It was 
so arranged because of the stairway, which goes up almost in 
the center of the mansard. In fact, there is but a step be- 
tween the top stair and the door of the enclosed room.” 

And — the room ?” asked the girl, huskily. Describe it, 
please ?” 

Why, it’s a long time ago since I saw it. I think it was 
walled or boarded up when Sara took possession. I advised 
her to take it down — the big mansard was meant for a ball- 
room — but she said she had not the heart to make any change 
then, so soon after poor Gregory’s death.” 

Describe it.” Leah was trembling so violently that Mrs. 
Talfourd looked up at her in astonishment. . 

A square room,” began Mr. Talfourd ; padded walls, 
overlaid with brown leather, a low bed, two or three easy- 
chairs, some shelves to hold books, dishes, etc., and every ar- 
ticle of furniture fastened securely to the floor.” 

A moment Leah Paget stood bolt upright, with her hands 
pressed against her temples. She took a step forward, and 
an inarticulate cry burst from her lips. Tlien her hands drop- 
ped ; she lifted her head and her slender form was drawn to its 
fullest height ; her face was colorless, but her eyes glowed 
with tlie light of a sudden illumination. AVith a few quick 
steps she was at the door, and there she turned with an impet- 
uous gesture. 

Wait,” she said, and was outside of the room in a mo- 
ment, With a foot upon the lowest stair she turned, at a 
sound behind her. It was Lord Barham, and he held out a 
bright new door-key. 

You will need this,” was all he said. 

She paused on the step above him, and, for a moment. 


526 


A LOST WITNESS. 


looked steadily into the eyes from which he had that moment 
snatched the gold-rimmed glasses. Then she caught the key 
from his hand and sped on up the broad stairs. At the top 
she turned. He was still standing at the foot. ‘‘You may 
as well come/^ and she hastened on. 

Up the second flight she flew breathlessly. And the third, 
narrower, steeper, darker. Half-way up she paused, as if by 
some instinct, and looked over the slender hand-rail, down 
upon the second flight and the floor below. 

When she stopped, at the top of the last flight. Lord Bar- 
ham was close beside her, and, directly before them, with a 
scant two feet of space between it and the stairway, was a 
heavy door doubly bolted. 

She was trembling violently now, and he bent forward and 
threw back the bolts. They worked smoothly, as if they had 
been well oiled and in recent use. 

He opened the heavy door, drawing back a little, as he 
stood at the top of the flight, to give it room to swing, and an- 
other door confronted them. In this door was a sliding 
panel, and two or three small orifices, that were protected by 
little revolving covers. 

And now Leah was panting and clinging to the slender 
hand-rail for support. 

He took the key from her hand, unlocked the second door, 
which swung inward, and taking her arm, gently drew her in. 
But only so far as the threshold. There the girl stopped, as 
if paralyzed, and cast a quick sweeping glance all about her — 
at the padded walls, that had been over-draped for the most 
part in gaudy chintz, at the stationary bed and table, and then 
up to the barred skylight above her head. 

Lord Barham, leaving the door wide open, had advanced to 


LEAH SPEAKS. 


527 


the ceiiter of the room, and, after her startled survey and an- 
other moment of silent, horror-stricken calm, Leah Paget 
moved slowly tovvard him. 

My God ! what does it mean ?’^ .she said, flinging out both 
her hands in a frantic gesture. This room— it has been my 

prison for long, long weeks ! In this room, in tliis very room 
— Sara Volney’s house ! — is this a trick, or^ — ” 

No,’’ said the man at her side, it is no trick ; only an 
exposure. So it was as I thought — this place has been your 
prison ? Do you know why ? Try to think, try to be calm. 
There is much at stake.” 

Again for a moment she stood, shivering as if with cold, and 
all the fire gone out of her eyes. Then she drew herself up 
and a splendid rage seemed to possess her and drive out all other 
feeling. 

Do I know why ? Yes ! Now ; now, for the first time, I 
do know why ! That dreadful day, I went out at dusk to post 
some letters. I walked slowly down a quiet street to put them 
into a box. Because it was pleasant, and I wanted the walk, 
I passed two or three boxes, saying to myself each time, The 
next, and then turn back.” When I did stop at a corner it was 
growing duskier and the street seemed deserted. I dropped my 
letters and was turning away when a cab came up very quietly, 
and I was seized by two men. That is all I know. Some- 
thing was pressed against my face. When I became conscious, 
I was here, in this room I 

There was the sound of light footsteps hastening up the stairs. 
As if fearful of being again shut up in that padded dungeon, 
Leah sprang to the door. Then suddenly she drew herself up, 
and vith flashing eyes confronted the one who stood on the 
stairs a step below her. 


628 


A LOST WITNESS. 


^^Sara Volney,” she cried, ‘Mook me in the face and say, 
if you dare, why you have done a thing too base to be 
named ! why you are rny enemy 

The cry of rage that could not be kept back, and the look 
of terror that for a moment flitted across her face, were the 
only signs that Sara Volney had heard her words. 

Then she said sharply to some one just behind her, Quick ! 
Help me ! She must not come down f’ 

What happened nexc ? It could never be quite under- 
stood. 

The woman behind Mrs. Volney made a sudden forward 
rush, and as both sought to reach and detain Leah, a man 
stepped in between them, hurled the old woman aside and 
put out a hand to grasp the arm of the other. 

Madam, would you commit another murder ? Hoi'tense 
Novalis is not yet avenged 

Then a scream echoed from the roof to the floors below ; 
there was a frantic struggle on that tiny landing at the very 
top of the stairs; a sudden wrench, a crash, a dull, sickening 
thud, and a woman’s form was stretched senseless across the 
threshold of that prison room, while another lay, a crushed 
heap, upon the floor below ! 


CHAPTER LXIII. 

THE EXIT OF THE STARS. 

Such scenes defy description. After one moveless, horror- 
stricken moment. Lord Barham became astonishingly active. 
He lifted the head of the fainting girl away from the thresh- 



“Madam, would you commit another murder? Hortense Novalis 
is not yet avenged! Page 528. 


529 





530 


A LOST WITNESS. 


old of the prison room, and, without so much as glancing at 
the old woman just inside, drew the inner door shut and turned 
the key upon her. Then he caught up the senseless form and 
carried it carefully but rapidly down the stairs, past the place 
where Sara Volney lay, and still down to the rear drawing- 
room, where Mrs. Talfourd, with white, scared face, threw 
open the door, and bade him lay her upon a low divan. 

Very gently he laid her down. It’s only a swoon,” he 
said. I leave her to yon, Mrs. Talfourd.” At the door 
he encountered Mr. Talfourd. ^^This is very bad,” he said. 

Send the trustiest servant for a physician. And there ought 
to be an officer here at once. I think you can find one not far 
off.” 

At that moment they heard the street door open and close, 
and then Cousin appeared. 

What is it?” he cried, sharply, after one look at their 
faces. 

An accident,” said Lord Barham, quickly. Come and 
see.” 

Saia Volney was lying in a strangely cramped and unnat- 
ural attitude. She had struck against the hand-rail in fall- 
ing, with such force as to save her by the rebound from strik- 
ing upon the stairs themselves, lower down. She was sense- 
less and her face was drawn and ashen. 

For a moment the two men bent above her. Cousin with 
his whole frame shaken and great drops of sweat standing out 
upon his forehead. 

^^She is certainly much injured,” said Lord Barham, draw- 
ing back a little. I think we should not move her before a 
surgeon comes.” 

Cousin knelt beside the still form with a strange, dazed look 


THE EXIT OF THE STABS. 


531 


upon his face. He lifted one limp white hand and then laid 
it tenderly down again. He looked for a long moment into 
the white, unconscious face, and then up to the man now stand- 
ing erect opposite him. 

Suddenly, with eyes that gleamed fiercely, lie sprang up, 
confronting the other across that still form. 

Curse you V he cried, hoarsely. You have brought this 
about. Ah ! I wish I could kill you 

There was a moment of silence, and then the other spoke, 
with no trace of resentment in his low tones. 

And I wish I could spare* you a little of this horror, and of 
that which is to come.’’ He made a movement as if to go, but 
turned back. 

believe you are an honest man,” lie said, and you 
have erred, like many others, for the sake of a woman you 
loved and believed. Before you leave this house you must 
know the truth concerning — many things.” 

An hour later, and Cousin knew the truth from the lips of 
Mr. Talfourd, who told it mercifully, but without naming Fer- 
rars. 

Cousin was silent for a space, then : For God’s sake !” he 
cried, who is that man who calls himself Lord Barham ?” 

‘‘That man is Francis Ferrars, the English detective !” 

In this strange world, comedy and tragedy walk hand in 
hand. 

While Mr. Talfourd and Cousin still stood near the draw- 
ing-room window, a carriage dashed up to the gate, closely fol- 
lowed by another. From the first, two men sprang out. From 
the second, one, and that one Captain Connors. 

Then the two at the window saw the pantomime of a conver- 


532 


A LOST WITNESS. 


sation, in which tlie Captain was energetic, and the two others 
seemed to be listeners. 

Suddenly Cousin turned from the window and hurried out, 
hatless, to the street ; and again Talfourd saw a brief panto- 
mime, iii which Cousin took a part. 

It was all over in a moment. The two men re-entered their 
cab and drove away, and Captain Connors and Cousin came in 
together. 

Those gentlemen of the ‘ Star Agency^ are deeply disap- 
pointed,’’ the Captain said to Mr. Talfourd. ‘^They were after 
Lord Louis Barham. I didn’t want a scene or a long parley, 
so I told them the truth. They’ll keep it close enough.” 

I am glad to be so well out of that,” Ferrars said, while 
in company with Captain Connors and Mr. Talfourd, they 
awaited in the drawing-room the verdict of the surgeons. It 
would have been an ugly on dit to attach to the name of such 
a good fellow as Lord Barham.” 

^^How came you to adopt that role?” inquired Connors. 

“It was Wyntoun’s idea. When he wrote begging me to 
come to the rescue he suggested it. I fancied the boy thought he 
miglit take a hand with me. He had got hold of the notion 
that some one must get behind the social scenes in order to 
succeed. And then my resemblance to Lord Barham is really 
striking. Of couise, no one could foresee such a complication 
as we found from the very first. 

Suddenly the Ca})tain turned upon Ferrars. 

“By Jove! that fellow Cousin is coming out strong. It 
was he, it seems, who warned them at the ^ Star.’ One of my 
shadows came tearing in, to tell me that Cousin had driven up 
to the ^Star’ office in hot haste, and fairly dashed up stairs. 
And then, in a few minutes. Cousin rushed down upon me 


THE EXIT OF THE STAES. 


533 


with the news that La Belle Fabrice was in the city. He had 
seen her in a cab, disguised as a servant, driving down town.” 

I do not understand all of this,” said Talfourd pere. 

Allow me,” said Ferrars. The old woman — Mrs. 
Harris, as she calls herself — has been in the care of the Captain 
here. I felt sure that she had been in communication with 
Mrs. Volney, who, we believed, was none other than Mary 
Sharp, of South Brandon fame ; the adopted, and lost, 
daughter of Deacon Sharp. So, in order to identify her. La 
Belle Fabrice put on a servant’s attire, and came here as the 
bearer of a note from Mrs. Harris. Fabrice recognized Mrs. 
Voluey as Mary Sharp, and gave me the signal to that effect. 
It appears that Fabrice once had an encounter with Cousin 
when she was in this same servant disguise, flaxen braids and 
all, and I couldn’t keep Cousin away from the window. He 
saw the flaxen braids and away he went, killing two birds with 
one stone — settins: those fellows upon me and giving the Cap- 
tain here, timely information.” 

Good Heavens !” said Leah, what a coil ! But who is 
that terrible old woman ?” 

Ferrars looked up quickly. You know her?” he asked. 

Leah shuddered. I never saw her face, but she was my 
jailor !” 

I guessed something like that. We had her in custody 
and allowed her to escape, Mrs. Yolney bribing the matron in 
charge. You see now. Miss Paget, what our plan was, and on 
what uncertain ground we stood. Up to this morning, al- 
though morally certain that Mrs. Yolney was your enemy 
and this house your jail, that she was Mary Shai’p and the 
murderess of Hortense Novalis, we had positively no proof. 
If you. La Belle Fabrice, or the woman Harris, had failed in 


534 


A LOST WITNESS. 


the role we expected each to play, we would have been in a sad 
predicament, and might have done more harm than good. Of 
course, we did not anticipate such a strange deuouemeTit. 

Leah shivered again. What did it mean ?” 

suppose Mrs. Harris must liave told Mrs. Volney that 
she was in danger of being used as a witness ; and Mrs. Vol- 
ney, having bribed the matron, was about to secrete the bid 
woman in your late prison.” 

Leah covered her face with her hands. It was horrible !” 
she cried. I see it every moment !” 

It was horrible,” assented the detective. But, after all, 
since justice must be done, it is best. Miss Paget, I wish you 
would tell me now, why you so steadfastly refused to explain 
your imprisonment.” 

The girl flushed rosily and half turned away. Then she 
answered, 

I dare say it will seem folly to you, and to all others now ; 
still,” her face paling again, it is horrible, as it all comes 
back to me. A long time ago she, Mrs. Volney, and I, were 
talking of some mesalliance, I forget just what, but the dis- 
cussion turned upon fairness or honesty of marriage when 
there must be a secret between husband and wife, or any act 
that could not be fully explained and might appear question- 
able. Not long after, the newspapers had much to say of a 
young girl who had disappeared, and who came home, after a 
time, telling very much such a story as I would have told had 
I told the truth. Nobody believed the girPs story, and the 
newspapers ridiculed it most horribly. Sitting alone in that 
hideous room, day after day, I suppose I grew morbid, and I 
promised myself if I ever escaped, I would at least preserve 
my dignity and keep silent. I might have saved myself the 


THK EXIT OF THE STAES. 


635 


trouble, though. That old woman made me take a solemn 
oath never to tell what befell me, nor speak of that padded 
prisou.^^ She was silent a moment, and then added : Of 
course, when I saw that room, and the key in your possession, 
I knew you had unearthed ihe secret, and felt myself absolved.” 
And now she was looking at him curiously. I never guessed, 
though, until you dropped off your affectations and resumed 
your natural tones, that you were not Lord Barham.” 

Sara Volney was hurt iiiito death. Nothing could save her, 
a council of doctors said. There were spinal injuries that 
must in themselves prove fatal, ending, as they surely would, 
in paralysis. But there were other hurts, internal injuries,” 
threatening to cdt the thread of life even shortei-. 

At midnight she was suffering frightfully. She lay in her 
darkened room, raving, wildly and living over again the var- 
ied scenes of a strange career. The lips that had guarded her 
secrets so closely, were pouring them forth freely now, but in a 
strange confusion that made them worth little more than si- 
lence would have been, to those who hoped for something bet- 
ter — some word of penitence or reparation — before Death claim- 
ed his victim. 

When the councils of physicians had dispersed, Ferrars told 
the surgeon who remained in close attendance, as much as was 
needful of Sara Volney, and of the tragedy in which she had 
borne so sinister a part, adding. 

You see, of course, why we must dispense, if possible, with 
the services of a trained nurse. None of these ravings — which 
contain more fact than fancy, I fear — must get beyond the 
walls of this room. Everything will be kept from publicity, 
for the present.” 


536 


A LOST WITNESS. 


Late in the afternoon, two ladies, under the escort of Cap- 
tain Connors, came, and Ferrars was called down to the draw- 
ing-room, where they awaited him. 

He found La Belle Fabrice and Madam Congreve. 

Fabrice came toward him and put out her hand. 

I have come to offer my services,^’ she said. Indeed, to 
force them upon you.’’ And then, in a hushed tone, Captain 
Connors has told us — it is horrible — and I — I feel as if I had 
done it myself ! She has no friends, or at least none who have 
known her so long. I have good nerves, and am not a 
bad nurse — ask Madam Congreve there. I felt sure you 
wouldn’t want a stranger, and Madam will stay with me, of 
course. 

And so it was arranged. 

Abner Paget and his wife had been waiting the turn of events 
in a little suburban town, not two hours’ ride from their own 
home. A telegram from Ferrars, who seemed to think of 
everything, brought them back that evening, and they hastened 
to take Leah away from the place where all the suffering her 
fair life had known, had been planned and executed upon 
her. 

At the first opportunity, the detective consulted Fabrice as 
to the best way to dispose of Mrs. Harris, who was still a pris- 
oner in the mansard cell. 

That dreadful old woman is truly devoted to Mary — to 
Mrs. Volney,” said Fabrice, promptly. Release her, and she 
will be of much use in the sick-room. She won’t run away, 
you may be sure, while her idol is in danger.” 

Ferrars seemed to hesitate. 

I know what I am saying,” urged Fabrice. “ There is 
no love between us, I assure you ; but that avaricious, unprin- 


537 


ALL ALONE/^ 

cipled old woman, who would have sold Hannie Holly or my- 
self into any evil bondage, made an idol of Mary from the 
first/’ 

And she — Mary, as you call her ?” 

‘‘ Mary, in those days, loved nothing but herself. All her 
sweetness and pretty ways were used to further her own aims. 
When she had done with Mrs. Harris, she cast her aside.” 


CHAPTER LXXIV. 

ALL ALONE.” 

On the evening of the third day, the surgeon sought Fer- 
rars. 

The delirium has taken a strange turn,” he said. “ She 
seems to be in the condition of a sleep-walker or a mesmerized 
person. I believe that a familiar voice could lead her on, and 
keep her memory sufficiently alive by occasional suggestions to 
get something like a coherent story from her. She is break- 
ing fast, and if there is information of importance in her keep- 
ing— ” 

“ Wait,” said the detective, and he went in search of Fa- 
brice. 

It is time to make the effort,” he said. Have you got 
the strength ? It’s a hideous task, I know.” 

Yet we must do it,” the girl said. “ Yes, I will be your 
mouthpiece.” 

In the hall, hovering near the door of the sick-room, they 


538 


A LOST WITNESS. 


encountered Cousin, and Ferrars laid a hand upon liis arm. 

We are going to make an effort to get at the truth/^ the 
detective said, kindly. Do you wisli to be present 

Is she rational whispered the poor fellow, hoarsely. 
No.’^ 

When she comes to herself, I must see her,” Cousin said. 

But not now — I caift.” 

It was, indeed, a weird and strange scene, that closely-cur- 
tained, dimly-lighted room, with the low white bed and its still 
occupant in the center. At the foot the surgeon, his keen 
eyes watching for the slightest change in that marble-like face 
— upon which the light had been turned, while all the rest of 
the room and its occupants lay in shadow — with Fabrice in a 
low chair drawn close by the bedside, and Ferrars standing just 
behind, where he might whisper, from time to time, the words 
she must say. 

And then, urged on, or held to her subject, by Fabrice, the 
shattered mind began to work out a strange story. 

At first it was the beautiful bound girl, at war with all her 
surroundings ; with mutinous, restless blood flowing in her 
veins ; with pride and cunning, an inordinate self-confidence, 
struggling with her bonds ; plotting, scheming, urging on the 
others with fiery scornful words. 

‘‘Bessie, come, come! make up your mind. “ Come I I 
wouldn’t let poor old uncle work for me I I would never be a 
burden, like you are. What do you do ? Nothing but take 
his dimes to buy new ribbons, while he sits by the fire and 
can’t smoke because you want so many frills. Bah ! you are 
a coward, Bess Gage.” 

“ My God !” moaned Fabrice. “ That is how she used to 
talk to me. That is how they urged me away !” 

“ Hush !” whispered Ferrars. 


639 


ALL ALONE.^^ 

And now it was of Gregory Volney that she babbled ; of 
his wooing, of his wealth. And he thinks I love him— he, 
the ugly, sickly thing ! But wait ; only wait I” 

And listening, horror-stricken, they heard dramatized the 
life and death of an unloved, unhappy invalid, always the 
slave of her soft cat-like artfulness, dying slowly while she 
sought pleasure amid other scenes. And then she was a 
widow. She was in New York. She was her own mistress, 
Sara Volney — mistress of a proud home and a goodly fortune. 

Now,’^ whispered Ferrars, as he bent over Fabrice ; just 
the word — 

And Fabrice leaned over the still white figure, and breathed 
softly a name : Max 

And then — ah, Heavens ! what a spectacle is a soul laid bare 
in all its iniquity ! 

Max, Max, Max It began with a sigh and ended in a 
wail, and all the wretched story came torrent-like from her 
lips. 

How she had loved him ! Loved him from the first, while 
yet she was Gregory Volney ’s wife ! How all her wiles, her 
softest looks and tones, her sweetest smiles had been lavished 
in vain ! And then came Leah Paget. 

No need to urge her now ; no need to prompt or suggest. 
All is told. Her love, her jealousy, her frenzied last struggles 
to ensnare a heart that would not heed. All her despair, and 
then the hatred, growing, growing ! The mad determination to 
win, in spite of everything. Then, the plotting — the idea of ab- 
duction^ — slowly taking form in that passion-maddened brain. 
And then — Hortense Novalis ! 

How hideous it was ! The accidental meeting of the two, in 
which Hortense, the adventuress, blithely proffering the right 


540 


A LOST WITNESS. 


hand and good-will of an old comrade, is repulsed with sting- 
ing words and haughty glances by the aristocrat, the proud so- 
ciety queen ! Ah ! fatal mistake for Sara V olney ! 

And now she is living these terrible weeks of her life over 
again. Faster and faster come the words. There is no break 
now, no missing links. The soft voice grows strong and shi ill, 
a strange light begins to burn in those beautiful eyes. Listen. 

She has learned that Hortense is an enemy to be feared, and, 
just as she fancies that Max is turning toward her, beginning 
to feel the spell of her beauty and enticing sweetness, Hor- 
tense Novalis lets fly her first arrow. Only a vague whisper 
as yet, a rumor without a name. Only that there is in society 
a lady whose career has been exceedingly strange. Ah, but 
the rest will come ; the greed for gossip will never be satisfied 
until more is told. Hortense Novalis will play with her rep- 
utation as she, Sara, has played with the hearts that loved 
her. Hortense will flaunt it in the public gaze for a time and 
then tear it to tatters, fling it away. 

And Max Oli ! the wail that goes up in that darkened 
room ! Max is lost to her now ; doubly lost. Max Talfourd 
must love and wed above reproach ! Oh, bitterness ! 

How silent the room is ! And then how filled with the 
sound of sobbing that is te:irless ! 

Max, Max ! Lost to her — but no, no, no ! She can pre- 
vent Some one to help her. Who will it be? Ah, 

Satan furthers the hopes of his own ! She knows where to 
look for Mother Harris. She will aid her. How odd that 
that rapacious old vulture is always at her call, always her ab- 
ject slave ! Max’ wife must be above reproach ! It shall 
not be Leah Paget, then. 

Hush ! Speak low ! How easy it all is. First, close 


ALL ALONe/^ 541 

the house and move away. Then, that prison room must be 
opened. Tear away the boards. Now tlie nest is ready. 
How easy it is ! A carriage at some quiet corner. I know 
where Leah loves to walk. Ah, Leah Paget, not a hair of 
your head will be injured. But yet— we’ll try it. Go to your 
friends, after a month’s absence, and tell them your story. 
Ask them to believe it ! Will they ? Ha, ha ! You went 
out at sunset. You were seized, thrust into a carriasfe, shut 
up for weeks in a padded room. And then, presto ! you are 
at home again. You have not been robbed, you have not 
seen your jailor, you do not know wheie you were confined. 
Why were you abducted, why were you brought back ? Ha ! 
ha ! If I were you, Leah Paget, I would never tell that 
story. Ah ! but stop ! This room ! She must give her prom- 
ise ; she must tell nothing. I had not thought of that ! 
Bah ! how I hate you ! If I only knew where to put you, 
you would never go back, Leali Paget. Ah, well ! You will 
never be his wife, Leah Paget; never, never, never !” 

The voice sinks to a whisper, the light in the eyes dying 
out. 

The surgeon feels the pulse, and pours a spoonful of liquid 
between the parted lips. Ferrars breathes a word in the ear 
of Fabrice. 

Hortense !” 

Ah ! will I never have peace ? How dnre you cross my 
threshold, woman? How dare you touch his picture with 
your vile common hands? My Max. Wliat, you too? I 
don’t believe it ! It’s false as your fair face. He your friend ! 
Take care, Hortense Novalis, as you call yourself. Take care ! 
Not that ! Don’t cross that line.” 

Again the voice sinks. How still the room is. Fabrice is 


542 


A LOST WITNESS. 


as pale, almost, as that ashen face upon the pillow. The de- 
tective proffers her a glass of wine, but she cannot drink it. 
She moves away, while her lips seem parched. 

“ Another friend — how fortunate, poor fool ! What an 
easy conquest ! Ah, he might have been a dangerous foe. 
How loyal, though ! And he loves me ! Yes, and he can 
love. Plain and awkward creature ! If only M ax had loved 
me like that ! Oh Max, Max, Max ! Well, he is my slave 
at least. He will do my bidding, and I need such help — yes, 
yes ! I will not cast him away. He is mine, body and soul. 
He shall remain mine. My slave 
Fabrice looks up in horror. 

‘‘ She means Cousin,’’ whispered Fei’rars. 

What ! again ? No, no ! you will not do that, Hortense ! 
No, no ! you shall not make my name a byword. Yon shall 
not. I will kill you first. Ah !” 

Again the eyes are aflame, a tinge of color begins to glow 
in the white lips. 

Hush ! It must be. Tomorrow might be too late. I will 
see for myself. I must ! Ah, if it should be so ! But no ; 
I will not believe it ! Softly. All is quiet. No one is to be 
seen. I am at the door. Hush, it opens ; it is not locked. 
Ah, you are asleep, you grim dragon ! God of heaven, it is, 
it is his voice ! His ! and he is coming ! Ah, he is gone, and 
she — see — she puts 0!i all her bravery, her jewels, her flowers. 
How regal ! And he has turned from Leah to her. To her, 
and she will be the queen of the stage tomorrow. What 
is she doing? Nearer, nearer. Ah, a letter, and she sighs. 
A picture. She smiles, and holds it before her. Oh, my 
heart ! It is Max, my Max ! Ah, curse you ! curse you. 


curse — 


ALL ALONE ” 543 

Gracious Heavens ! the last word is fairly shrieked. It 
rings through that still house. And she, the motionless, the 
dying, springs up and flings her body to and fro ; her long 
fair tresses come loosened, and fall streaming backward over 
the pillows. As she moves, her blazing eyes and ex})anded nos- 
trils, her slim white hands swaying swiftly, her writhing body 
and upward flung arms, present a pantomime that is unmistak- 
able. 

With a paroxysm of strength, such as is sometimes lent the 
dying, Sara Volney, in her last hour, is rehearsing the scene 
of Hortense Novalis’ death. 

It is hideous ! Fabrice draws away and covers her face 
with her hands. Even the surgeon turns aside his face. Only 
Ferrars continues to gaze fixedly, losing no movement, no gest- 
ure. And away in a darkened corner an old woman, upon 
her knees, with face to the wall, grovels and moans in abject 
misery. 

It is over soon, and then comes the relaxation that is inev- 
itable. The dying woman lies panting and pallid, fast sinking 
back into unconsciousness. 

This will hasten the end,’^ says the surgeon. You had 
better go out now. I will summon you at the first sign of 
change. And I think you would do well to call in your no- 
tary and a clergyman.” 

They are ready,” said Ferrars. And then he gently led 
Fabrice away. 

At the end of half an hour they were again sum- 
moned. * 

Sara Volney had opened her eyes, with the light of reason 
in them, and she lay for some moments silent, with her gaze 


544 


A LOST WITNESS. 


fixed upon the surgeon. Soon she made an effort to move, and 
then suddenly seemed to comprehend everything. 

Am — I — past hel}> she whispered. 

Yes.” 

Is there no hope ?” 
hope.” 

Am I dying now — now ?” 

The surgeon nodded. Another long silence. He put a 
finger upon her wrist. 

Is it — soon ?” 

Very soon. Is there anything you wish to say ?” 

Yes ; a lawyer,” she whispered. 

Ferrars came forward. 

We have a lawyer and a clergyman at hand. But have 
you no confession to make? A few words will be enough. 
You have been raving the truth for three days.” 

A strange haunted look crossed her face. 

Wliy are you — Lord Barham — here?” she articulated. 

I am not Lord Barham,” said Ferrars, quickly. I am a 
detective. Will you say, in the presence of the notary, the 
bare truth ?” 

Again her eyes turned toward the surgeon, who interpreted 
the glance. 

You cannot live until midnight,” he said, gently. 

Again she looked at Ferrars. ^^Go — on.” 

You are Mary, adopted daughter of Deacon Sharp, of 
South Brandon ?” 

^^Yes.” 

You caused the abduction of Leah Paget ?” 

Yes.” 

“ And the death of Hortense Novalis ?” 


I 



Sarah Volney, in her last hour, is rehearsing the scene op 
Hortense Novalis’ death!” Page 543. 



546 


A LOST WITNESS. 


She was not Hortense Novalis. She was Haiinie Holly. 
I did not intend to kill — I hid in the anteroom — I heard his 
voice — ” 

Whose voice ?’’ 

No matter. It made me insane. I picked up a knife — 
on her table. And — when I saw her kiss — his picture — I flew 
at her — and killed — 

The eyes closed, but she rallied again, enough to make a 
few more admissions, as to the concealment of the letter and 
picture, and to sign her declaration. Then she dictated 
her will, which was witnessed by the surgeon and Ferrars. 
Then she asked, feebly : 

Is Mr. Cousin here The detective nodded. Leave 
me — all of you — and send him here.” 

It was done. And poor Cousin knelt beside the bed, his 
wo-stricken face close to her own. 

You have loved me truly,” she whispered, brokenly. 

God knows how truly.” 

Do you hate me, now ?” 

No — no !” 

In all my life,” she whispered, I have never been loved 
truly, unselfishly, by any but you. I want no one but you — 
beside my death-bed.” 

Cousin sobbed piteously. May I hold you in my arms ?” 
he pleaded. 

Yes,” she whispered. Quick — I am going.” 

As he lifted her tenderly and clasped his arms closely about 
her, a liollow moan broke from the li[)s of a bowed figure, in 
the corner near the door. It was Mrs. Harris, and she came 
softly forward and kiK It by the foot of the bed. 

Sara — my beautiful, my darling — say a word to me !” 


CONCLUSION. 


547 


Perhaps in that moment of sincere sorrow, the croning old 
woman realized something of the misery she had brought to 
others. Her voice seemed to arouse the dying woman. 

“ Tell her,” she whispered to Cousin, that — I have left the 
money. She need not fear for that.” 

Then an awful change came over her face. 

‘‘ My God !” she moaned, I am going — going — all alone !” 


CHAPTER LXXy. 

CONCLUSION. 

When Sara Volney’s body was carried to its last resting- 
place, the two chief mourners were Cousin and an old woman, 
to whom he gave his arm courteously and respectfully, for 
her sake,” but to whom he never spoke, and from whom he 
turned away in silent antipathy at the close. 

When Mrs. Volney’s will was read, it was found that all 
her fortune, with the exception of a legacy to Mrs. Harris, was 
left to her only friend,” Percy Cousin, who she begged to 
accept it as the only reparation she could make him. 

After a long illness — the natural result upon such a tempera- 
ment of that awful strain of love and fear, grief and passion — 
he rallied slowly, and came back to the world again, an old 
young man, with hair as white as silver. 

His first act, after entering upon the possession of his for- 
tune, was to erect over the grave of Sara Volney a shaft of 


648 


A LOST WITNESS. 


whitest marble ; to enclose the ground which covered her, and 
to fill the enclosure with white fiiowers. For to him the 
memory of Sara Volney was sacred. She was the one woman 
he had loved, and would never forget. 

He avoided, as much as possible, his old friend, Captain 
Connors, and all the actors in the tragedy that had wrought 
such chaos with his life. The name of Sara Volney never 
crossed his lips, and after a time, he went abroad, and so van- 
ished, save to memory, from the lives in which he had played 
so strong a part. 

Mrs. Harris, broken and humbled — for she had loved Sara 
Volney unselfishly — was once more given over to the matron 
of the Place of Detention,” who welcomed her back quite 
cordially. There she remained until she had fulfilled her mis- 
sion as a witness in the clearing-up of the Dresden Flats mys- 
tery, which she did, under the judicious management of Fran- 
cis Ferrars, in a very satisfactory manner. Once more at lib- 
erty, and the very comfortable sum which Sara Volney had 
left, in payment for services and as a legacy,” placed in her 
hands, she returned to the abode of the palmist, and resumed 
her robes and turbans, her weird devices and uncanny ways. 
Perhaps she is still following the line of life” along the pink 
palms of maidens or the toil-hardened hands of the supersti- 
tious lower classes.” 

When those who had been the most interested in the work- 
ing-out of this strange case came together, and Francis Fer- 
rars made clear the methods by which he had arrived at the truth 
concerning the double mystery, each found something to won- 
der at. They then learned, for the first time, that not one of 
them all had been fully in the confidence of this wonderful 
Englishman, and great was the amazement when it was found 


CONCLUSION. 


549 


that he had, from the very beginning, been working toward 
Sara Volney, 

Yes,” lie said, it is quite true and quite simple. When 
those capital reports in the Paget Case came into my hands, I 
found some queer contradictions. Under the head of Leah 
Paget’s friends I found the name of Sara Volney, with de- 
tailed description, and a sketch of her history. Under the 
head of ‘ Possible rivals,’ I found again Sara Volney. I 
found her described as an intimate friend of Max Talfourd’s. 
Then I found that Cousin, already under suspicion as the one 
who had trifled with his duty, goes from the Chief’s office, 
from the Coroner’s inquest, fi’oni a round of calls upon news- 
paper offices — from every where, in fact — straight to Sara Vol- 
ney. I traced the source of their acquaintance, and lo ! they 
met at the house of Abner Paget, where Cousin had gone on 
business connected with the case of Leah Paget. Then, after 
seeing Mrs. Volney, I fixed upon her as the cause of Miss 
Paget’s troubles, and the real work began. To see more of 
Sara Volney, to meet her in society, and, especially, in her 
own house, I became Lord Barham. I entered society, and I 
learned many things, among them the history of that jiadded 
room in the attic. One evening, when Mrs. Volney was en- 
tertaining several people in the drawing-room, I made a point 
of leaving, sending the servant out after a cab, and then flew 
up to the mansard roof with a pocket full of skeleton keys. 
Then I was ready to solve Miss Paget’s little problem.” 

But how did you connect her with Hortense Novalis ?” 
asked Max Talfourd. 

First, I decided that it was a woman’s deed ; then that 
letter — ” 

I’d be very glad to know how that letter came there ?” 
said Max. 


550 


A LOST WITNESS. 


For that/^ said Ferrars, you have only my theory You 
dropped the letter iu the rooms of Hortense Novalis, instead of 
posting it ; and your abrupt departure probably piqued her 
into keeping it. Afterwards, to taunt and torture Mrs. Yol- 
ney, she concealed the envelope and flaunted the letter and pict- 
ure. Another thing you must take my word for : Mrs. Yolney 
was concealed behind the hangings of the ante-room when Mr. 
Quinlan left Hortense that night. The voice of Quinlan re- 
sembles the voice of Mr. Max Talfourd so closely that a listener, 
not seeing the speaker, might easily mistake one for the other. 
Sara Yolney thought it was Max Talfourd who was bidding 
Hortense a playful and affectionate adieu. The maid, I find, 
was addicted to the use of wine, so she was probably sleeping 
under its influence when Quinlan entered, and Mrs. Yolney 
helped her on to eternal silence by a liberal dose of chloroform. 
But that is not all. I found while examining carefully the cur- 
tains behind which Mrs. Yolney concealed herself, a single 
long yellow hair. When I saw Mrs. Yolney, I saw the head 
from which it came. Under the hands of a chemist it turned 
out to be red hair bleached to blonde. And Mary Sharp’s hair 
was red, you remember. 

The thing that brought Mrs. Yolney to those rooms that 
night was this : Hortense Novalis had met and recognized 
Mrs. Yolney, and been cut by her. With the assistance of her 
maid, Yirginie, who was a born plotter, Hortense, to avenge 
herself, set afloat a rumor — it was published in the ^ Call^ 
you remember — which threatened to affect the character of a 
noted society woman. While these ambiguous paragraphs 
were floating about, she informed Mrs. Yolney that her name 
would appear in connection with these reports, which, of course, 
would concern her early history. As Fate would have it. 


CONCLUSION. 


551 


Cousin himself was first to seize upon the on dit, and when he 
came to know Mrs. Volney, and found what he had done, he 
went about among the newspapers and took heroic measures to 
suppress the items he liad so recently set afloat. I followed 
him, in this journey, and learned his errand. 

After capturing Mrs. Harris, I sent Nickerson to South 
Brandon, with orders to keep an eye upon La Belle Fabrice 
and her party, and to do no more. Consequently, Nickerson 
asked no questions, and enacted tlie role of landscape painter in 
a manner that must have amazed the natives. I even spent a 
few days there myself, but, like Nickerson, I too kept quiet. 
Indeed, even if I had heard the old story with the name of the 
Widow Holly omitted, I might not have seen the connecting 
link. But when Murtagh gave me all of that story, and 
identified Mrs. Harris, I felt as if the work was done. Strat- 
egy did the rest,— st rategy and Providence. Believing tliat 
Mrs. Harris would communicate at once with Mrs. Volney, 
if rightly stirred up, we gave her the chance, and she and Mrs. 
Volney fell into the trap. Tiien Fabrice came suddenly to 
the city, having just been enlightened concerning tlie real 
situation. She willingly assumed a servant’s disguise and be- 
came the messenger of Mrs. Harris, who, of course, did not 
recognize her in disguise, and the work of identification was 
complete. Mrs. Harris, who had, in the beginning, discovered 
the presence of both Fabrice and Hortense in the city, had at- 
tempted to blackmail both — with some success where Hor- 
tense was concerned. She even appeared in an opera box as 
chaperone — Heaven save us ! — to the Novalis. But she served 
Mrs. Volney in any capacity and without scruple, ^ for love 
alone.’ ” 

Max Talfourd and Sir Felix Wyntoun returned from their 


552 


A LOS’l’ WITNESS. 


fruitless errand, recalled by a telegram from Talfourd pere. 
And when they demanded of Ferrars his reasons for sending 
them upon a false chase — for of course they had visited the 
wrong South Brandon — the reply was brief, while it covered all 
the ground. 

“ You were of no earthly use here, and I wanted you out of 
the way.” 

A word whispered by his mother went far toward reconcil- 
ing Max to this cavalier treatment. 

My boy, that man had a part to play, and he has a tender 
heart. He sent you away, I believe, for Sara’s sake — to spare 
her and you.” 

There was no barrier, now, between Leah and Max, and he 
was not slow to seek her. While she, being as frank as she 
was loyal and tender, welcomed him royally in compensation 
for his days of pain and suspense. 

For these two the clouds had lifted, save for that shadow 
which darkens the lives of all, the sorrow of others.” 

Leah Paget would not have been Leah if her sympathies had 
not drawn her toward Fabrice, and it went without saying” 
that these two should become firm friends. Both had gone 
through the same fierce trial ; botli passed under suspicion’s 
cloud, which ever turns its blackest side upon the daughters 
of Eve. And as neither Leah nor Mrs. Paget were able to do 
things by halves, it followed naturally that Fabrice became, 
for a time, the guest of the Pagets. 

On the day that saw her installed in a sunny room opening 
into that occupied by Leah, Sir Felix Wyntoun sought Fer- 
rars, with a very long countenance. 

Old man,” he said, gloomily, you’ve got to get me out 
of this. She won’t see me, she won’t answer my notes. I be- 


CONCLUSION. 


553 


lieve il’s that confounded trip to the wrong South Brandon that’s 
done for me. She thinks I flunked at the last, and means to 
cut me.” 

Ferrars smiled. My dear fellow, have you heard her 
story ?” 

‘‘ No !” thundered Sir Felix. She’s been vindicated ; 
that is enough, isn’t it ? Madam Congreve tried to get it off 
for me, but I wouldn’t stay. Fancy it : I would be a cad 
then.” 

Ferrars pushed his friend into an easy-chair, and stood look- 
ing indulgently down at him. 

am going to tell her story,” he said, '‘and don’t you 
venture to run from me.” 

" Oh, you ?” sighed Sir Felix. “ You’ll cut it short ?” 

“That I will,” said the detective. “ I have had enough of 
modern history for one time. The little Fabrice and Hannie 
(later Hortense) ran away fiom Mrs. Harris in a dudgeon, be- 
cause of her partiality to Sara Volney (Mary Sharp). They 
fell into the kind and motherly hands of a retired English ac- 
tress, who began tiieir training for her own profession. The 
restraint was too much for Hannie Holly, and she ran away 
to become what she was. Fabrice persevered. She had left 
her uncle, not from flight! ness, but because she had been 
wrought upon to think that she was a burden to him. And 
her girlish ambition was to make a fortune by her profession, 
and to care for him in his old age. She arrived in her native 
country full of this pretty scheme. But Hortense Novalis 
found her out and was, as in the case of Mrs. Volney, repulsed. 
Fabrice went to her rooms in response to a decoy letter, and 
was naturally affronted upon finding Hortense well and pros- 
perous, wicked as ever, and full of glee at the success of her 


554 


A LOST WITNESS. 


stratagem. Of course, Fabrice decliued to remain and dine 
with Mr. Quinlan and our friend Talfourd, and so the trouble 
began, Fabrice dreading and fearing to have her name coupled 
with that of an adventuress, for many reasons, chief of which, 
I suspect, we might count you. Then, one day, she fainted in 
your presence, upon seeing that queer, pathetically-framed ad- 
vertisement of her uncle’s. Dreading and hoping, she wrote 
to him, only to receive back her letter, which she, in her agi- 
tation, had misdirected, sending it to Seth Brandon instead of 
Seth Hunt. Around this time, almost distracted between 
Manager Horton, Hortense, and her anxiety about her uncle, 
she appealed to Mr. Clarkson, as you know. Mr. Clarkson 
wrote for information, and on the very night before the great 
event — the appearance of the two famous actresses in rival 
parts — Mr. Clarkson comes to Fabrice with a letter from a 
South Brandon magistrate. Seth Hunt was alive, but, at that 
time, very ill. Every other thought or care forsakes Fabrice 
then, and so excited is she that Mr. Clarkson thinks it wise to 
go with her on the journey. When he returns to the city he 
hears of the murder, and of the search for Fabrice. He knows 
that Fabrice cannot be guilty, and being now in the confidence 
of the charming little lady, and very much her partisan and 
adviser, he packs ofip Madam Congreve and the maid. And, 
as Seth Hunt is very ill, he plots with Madam to keep all the 
news away from Fabrice, which is easily done, since she is al- 
ways at the bedside of her uncle. Here, perhaps, I made an- 
other mistake. Instead of contenting myself with keeping the 
lawyer under surveillance, I ought to have brought him to ac- 
count. But I knew I would never unmask Sara Volney unless 
I could keep her mind, as well as Cousin’s, at ease. The names 
of Miss Paget, Fabrice, and Quinlan had been given to the 


CONCLUSION. 


555 


public before I came into the field actively, and I felt that my 
only hope of success lay in my ability to keep suspicion point- 
ing the wrong way. Well,^^ as Sir Felix jumped up and 
caught up his hat, have you got an idea ?” 

“ I almost think so. I am going to Leah Paget, and shall 
ask her to help me.” 

At last,” said his Mentor, heartily, your brain is ex- 
panding. Go ; I give you God speed !” 

Manager Horton would not have been the rare caterer to the 
public that he was if he had not hastened to beg La Belle Fa- 
brice — who, he declared, had treated him very ill — -to make 
her appearance once more in the new play. The invalided 
juvenile lady had recovered, and would assume the role which 
was to have been played by Hortense Novalis. 

It would be the engagement of the season,” he said, with 
fervor. 

Not a doubt of it, said the little Comedienne, with a curl 
of the lip. If I couldnT act at all, people would flock to 
see the woman whose name had been connected with such a 
sensation. I did not leave you without a word of warning, 
Mr. Horton. I left a note for Madam Congreve upon my 
dressing-table, because I had not time to go into the reception- 
room, which was full of visitors. Unfortunately, the note 
fell behind the case, where I hastily tossed it, and was not 
found. I shall not appear in public again. My reasons? I 
decline to name them.” 

But she did not answer Madam Congreve so cavalierly. 

Conny, dear, I was working for wealth, not fame. I was 
going to make a fortune for Uucle^s sake ; and behold, his for- 
tune is ample, and he wishes me to leave the stage. He wishes 
something else. We are going abroad presently, Conny, and 


656 


A LOST WITNESS. 


he wants you to go with us and continue matronizing and 
scolding me.^^ 

Frederick Quinlan had his will. After being an interesting 
object of suspicion, at last he was vindicated, and then he was 
more interesting still. He was the observed of all in society, 
at races and yachting tournaments — everywhere, in fact, where 
his name was known. 

After all,^’ wrote Max Talfourd to his friend Ferrars, a 
year later, there must be a strain of coarseness in the man, 
for recently, since the sensation has grown old and half-for- 
gotten, he has built a brave yacht and has had the bad 
taste to name it the ‘ Hortense Novalis.’ ” 

Isift it rather queer,’^ said an employe of the Star De- 
tective Bureau’^ one day, that Lord Barham got himself out 
of the way so suddenly 

Look here,’’ said his superior officer, I’m not quite a 
fool. Here’s a conundrum for you. At about the time of 
the double murder, one Lord Louis Barham arrived from over 
the water, but there’s no record that he ever went back. After 
the murder mystery was fairly disposed of, Mr. Francis Fer- 
rars went back to London, but we never heard how he got 
here. Blondsberry, of Scotland Yaixls, writes me that, by 
some freak of nature, Ferrars and Lord Barham resemble 
each other quite closely.” 

‘^By the Powers !” ejaculated the ^Star’ detective, then 
Lord Barham was Ferrars !” 

Quinlan was as good as his word, and diligent search was 
made for the Widow Holly, but she was never found. 

One day, shortly before his departure, Ferrars entered the 
office of Captain Connors and placed before him a long slender 
bundle, which, on being opened, disclosed the little blood- 


CONCLUSION. 


557 


stained statuette that had been brought by stealtli from under 
the very nose of the Coroner at the rooms of Hortense Novalis. 

IM like to know/^ said the Captain, ‘‘ what use you made 
of this thing ?” 

None at all,” replied Ferrars. I wanted it out of the 
way for fear some one, after a careful survey of those slim, 
tapered, bloody finger marks, might jump to the conclusion 
that they were made by a woman’s hand.” 

By rights,” said the Captain, “ the thing belongs to Fred 
Quinlan, but I believe I will claim it as a reminder of the 
greatest blunder of my career.” 

‘‘ Man,” cried the English detective, when will you see 
that these very blunders, by keeping the minds of the true of- 
fenders at ease, brought us, in the end, to success.” 


THE END, 


Emile Zola’s Powerful Realistic Novels 

“After reading Sola’s novels it seems as if in all others, even 
in the truest, there were a veil between the reader and the things 
described, and there is present to our mind the same difference as 
exists between the representations of human faces on canvas and 
the reflection of the same faces in the mirror. It is like finding 
truth for the first Signor de Ainicis. 


NANA. Translated from the 127th French edition. 

LA TEERE. M. Zola says of this, one of his latest works, 
I have endeavored to deal with the French peasant in 
this book, just as I dealt with the Paris workman in 
‘ L’Assommoir.’ I have endeavored to write his history, to 
discribe his manners, passions and sorrows in the fatal 
situations and circumstances in which he finds himself. ” 

L’ASSOMMOIR. Translated from the 97th French edition. 

NANA’S DAUGHTER. A Reply to “Nana.” 

A DREAM OP LOVE. 

POT BOUILLE. (Piping Hot!) Translated from the 87th 
French edition. 

THE LADIES’ PARADISE. Translated from the 84th 
French edition. 

NANA’S BROTHER GERMINAL. Translated from 
the 47th French edition. 

ABBE MOURET’S TRANSDRESSION. Translated 

from the 5 2d French edition. 

THE JOYS OF LIFE. Translated from the 44th French 
edition. 

A LOVE EPISODE. Translated from the 5 2d French 
edition. 

HUMAN BRUTES. (La B6te Humaine.) Zola’s latest 
work. 

Above books are printed on good paper from large type, and are 
appropriately illustrated. They are the best edition 
of Emile Zola’s works published in America. 


LAIRD & LEE, Publishers, 
203.205 Jackson Street, CHICAGO, ILL 


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Emile Zola’s Powerful Realistic Novels 


“After reading Zola’s novels it seems as if in all others, even 
in the truest, there were a veil between the reader and the things 
described, and there is present to our mind the same difference as 
exists between the representations of human faces on canvas and 
the reflection of the same faces in the mirror. It is like finding 
truth for the first time.— Sz£nor de Amias. 


NANA. Translated from the 127th French edition. 

LA TERRE. M. Zola-says of this, one of his latest works, 
“ I have endeavored to deal with the French peasant in 
this book, just as I dealt with the Paris workman in 
‘ L’Assommoir.’ I have endeavored to write his history, to 
discribe his manners, passions and sorrows in the fatal 
situations and circumstances in which he finds himself. ” 

L’ASSOMMOIR. Translated from the 97th French edition. 

NANA’S DAUGHTEE. A Reply to “ Nana." 

A DREAM OF LOVE. 

POT BOUILLE. (Piping Hot!) Translated from the 87th 
French edition. 

THE LADIES’ PARADISE. Translated from die 84th 
French edition. 

NANA’S BROTHER GERMINAL. 1 ran slated from 

the 47th French edition. 

ABBE MOURET’S TIIANSGRESSION. 1 ranslated 

from the 5 2d French edition. 

THE JOYS OF LIFE. Translated from the 44th French 
edition. 

A LOVE EPISODE. Translated from the 5 2d French 


edition. 


HUMAN BRUTES. (i a Bete Humaine.) Zola’s latest 


work. 



Above books are print^ on good paper from large type, and are 
appropriately illustrated. They are the best edition 
of Emile Zola’s wor in /^mlferica. 


LAIRD & LEE,cPublishers 



203-205 Jackson Street, 


CHICAGO, ILL. 


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